#javi peña x latina ofc

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Here's the next installment! Hope you all enjoy 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 24,000+

Summary: After a shocking occurrence, everything between you and Javi comes to a head that foists your relationship into a defining moment. Will the truth cause a rift, or strengthen the bond between you?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including oral (m + f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, angst, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, animosity, foreboding threats, and emotional distress. Some Worried!Javi, Protective! Javi, Upset!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

When you finally make it home to Javier later that evening, it's with another handful of groceries you purchased from the colmadito just outside of the gated neighborhood, and a head full of thoughts running rampant with worries that had no suspected foes.

The call kept looping like a record in the proverbial player of your mind, but every time it tried to source a possible explanation, it would draw a blank like a skip in the vinyl, and you'd be back to ruminating – trying to decipher the missing grove. Still, you found yourself feeling uncertain and unmoored to what your options even were, with nothing but a startling experience and the conjecture regarding its cause before you.

Hell, you hadn't even told Javi about the incident, and now? What are you even supposed to say?

Possible foul play is suspected?! Even in your head, it sounded ludicrous and overdramatic. After all, the investigator, the insurance rep, and the assistant manager at the dealership all conceded there was no definitive evidence that the tire was tampered with.

You were on autopilot as you came into the kitchen with the groceries and started putting everything away as your mind kept trying to rationalize the entire thing. The most likely explanation is the simplest, is the mantra that suddenly vies for influence in the swirl of what ifs and worst-case scenarios. You can hear your father's voice echo in your mind.

"Think logically. No point in getting hysterical. Be reasonable, and the answer will become obvious."

Sighing, you finish storing things in the fridge and only then notice that the stove is clear of the pots from earlier. They're actually soaking in the sink, along with the serving tray sitting clean and folded up next to the dish rack. The dinner plate that's wrapped up and placed under the stove lamp is the meal Javier served for you to have once you got home, and the sight of it makes you smile.

While dinner heats up in the microwave, you switch out the laundry loads and set the dry clothes in the basket to be sorted and folded later. You then head down to check on Javi, and find him fast asleep under the comforter while the ambient light from the TV screen casts a dreamy glow in the room. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe back out and go eat dinner while you stand in the kitchen. The sounds of the early twilight are filled with the trilling of the coquí and the breeze sifting through the trees and fronds outside.

Javier's house is tucked on the corner of a dead-end street in the northeast quadrant of the urbanizacíon, and behind the cement walls bordering the boundary lines of this corner of the gated neighborhood was a protected strip of land not zoned for construction, so it was often tranquil and quiet, even during the day. You found yourself thinking, This isn't a bad little bungalow at all. Just needs some TLC.

Once you've finished eating, you make quick work of the dishes and then decide to take a shower so you can make it an early night. After all, you're feeling drained, and still have a full workday left to grind through. So, you lock up the house, turn out the lights, and go into bathroom's hall entry.

The eucalyptus stems are still hung from the showerhead, and the hot, steamy water helps diffuse the scent of it soothingly over your senses.

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, you wrap the towel around yourself and shut the light off before opening the bathroom's bedroom door and tiptoeing around to your side of the bed.

The glow of the TV helps you maneuver soundlessly, and as you go, you see that Javier had turned over onto his side in order to cuddle your pillow. Tangled under his arm and over said pillow, is your nighty.

Smiling at the sight, you lean over and try to carefully tug the silky garment loose, but Javi ends up stirring awake.

"Mmph…Celina?" he sleepily mumbles.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you murmur and sit on your side of the bed, stretching over to caress your hand along the length of his upper arm pacifyingly. "Go back to sleep, babe—"

He yawns like a lion and stubbornly embraces the pillow to his chest, taking the nighty along with it as he rolls onto his back and grumbles groggily, "M'awake now."

You can't help scoff at your luck. "No, doesn't really sound like you are. Now, drift back off, mi cariñito," is your soft coo, as you simultaneously pinch the strap of the nighty that's dangling loose and try to ease it out of his embrace so you can shed your towel and slip it on over your head.

Ever the contrarian, Javi drowsily rolls onto his side again so he can gruffly protest with surly grunts as he reaches out with his right hand and tries to heard you closer, but only comes up short. "Hmph, c'mere," is his raspy whine when he shuffles closer in order to lasso his arm around your waist.

"Ay, Javi, I'm still in a towel and I've been trying to get the nighty out from your clutches without stirring you awake," you irreverently huff as you wriggle away to the edge of the bed so you can go discard the towel and hang it back up in the bathroom. But Javi snags the back of the fluffy material and hauls you back, so you squeal, "Javier!"

His husky chuckle makes it clear that he's just been feigning being drowsy for the last few seconds. "Just come snuggle, preciosa. Nighty's optional," is his sexy drawl as he tows you closer until you're tucked against him.

"Someone is feeling better," you muse saucily before maneuvering around to face him so you can press your palm to his forehead. "Ah, you don't feel as feverish. Good," is your lilting observation before wriggling to get the pillow and nighty out from beneath you so you can shift up on your elbow and smile down at him as you taunt, "But you're still supposed to behave. No te he dado de alta, chavón."

He smirks at your bossy, 'I haven't discharged you,' and surrenders, flopping his arms above his head so that you can shimmy up and grab the nighty before untangling it and pulling it on over your head. With a cheeky tug of your towel, he pulls it loose from your hourglass figure and tosses it in the corner next to the dresser so you can easily scurry under the comforter with him.

"You took more of the medicine?" you ask as you cuddle up against him, smiling when he grunts in the affirmative. "I saw you polished off the rest of the leftovers from lunch. Thanks for setting a plate aside for me."

"You're welcome. Least I could do when you've taken such good care of my ass," he quips, and you snicker and relish how he squeezes you affectionately in his arms.

"Ah, you've taken care of me just as good," you sincerely assure and nuzzle his neck. His skin is warm, and his manly, spicy scent is peeking through the lingering fragrance of the Vicks vaporub.

With a pleased grunt, Javi noses into the top of your hair. At your hearty, albeit tired sigh, he hums before murmuring, "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you mumble as you stifle a yawn. "Last two weeks have been exhausting."

Frowning, Javi is reminded that this is not the first time he's heard that – that you've had a tough time recently. He wants to ask what's been going on, but he feels you begin to relax against him, and frankly, he's still a bit run down himself. So, he kisses you on your temple after snuggling further under the covers with you, figuring he can ask tomorrow.

You're both able to drift off into a deep sleep, so much so that the TV is left on playing the late-night show, but it doesn't stir either of your slumbers.

No, it isn't until early the following morning that you slowly wake to Javier clearing his throat over the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. You can make out the ambient light from the TV screen from just beyond the shelter of the covers, and shiver at the chill in the room. Tiredly, you roll over and peer through heavy lids to see the door is ajar and Javier is at the sink. You can see part of his reflection in the mirror above the sink vanity.

He's dutifully shaving his face, and even though you want to bossily admonish him, you end up yawning and tossing the comforter over your head to get a few more winks of sleep in.

It must be a short while later when you hear him moving around the bedroom, so you shift under the covers in order to peer over and see that indeed, he's in his white skivvies and rifling through the closet for something to wear as he tries to clear his throat quietly.

"Javi, come back to bed," you whine, having peeked at the alarm clock and confirmed it was still much too early still.

Pausing, he glances over at you and sees you cutely curling up under the blanket from the chill in the room, so he snorts and lopes over to toss himself onto the bed before stretching out next to you.

With a kiss to your forehead, he rumbles, "Morning, mi amor."

"Don't 'morning, mi amor,' me. Get back under here," you boss, but with your tousled hair and scrunched pout, your command doesn't have the usual gravitas.

Still, Javi takes pity on you and tucks his legs under the covers before pivoting onto his side and scooting you closer. You happily curl into him and cling to his warm torso with a satisfied sigh.

"Where you going so early?" you mumble, feeling his skin slowly seep his body heat into you.

"The field office. I wanted to get ready early so I could call Kike to get picked up—"

With a snippy hum, you sass, "I haven't declared you completely cured, tough guy—"

He scoffs amusedly, "I feel fine, mandona."

Pouting stubbornly, you shift to take his temperature with your hand at his forehead. "Hmph…we'll see what the thermometer says," you argue, and shuffle up in bed in order to reach it where it sits on his nightstand.

Humoring you, he scoots to sit up and lean backwards into the headboard as you retrieve the thermometer and sidle close before placing it under his tongue. He bounces his brows at you, and you snicker, "Hey, you have proven you cannot be trusted when it comes to your own wellness. I don't want you rushing back to work if you're still sick."

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, waiting the allotted time required for his temperature to register. Satisfied that enough time has lapsed, you take the thermometer and hold it up to the light coming from the bathroom to see the reading.

Javi peers at it himself and smiles broadly. "Ah-hah, see? 98.7. No more fever," is his triumphant drawl before he kisses your cheek and croons, "Now, the only thing getting me hot, is you—"

You blow a raspberry at that and set the thermometer aside. "Alright, beyako. But you still have to drink lots of fluids, ok?" you muse and give him a haughty look before Javi ruggedly pulls you against him and onto his lap so he can shower you with relentless kisses until you crack a smile and giggle at his ticklish moustache.

When he ends up pulling back so he can cough and clear his raspy throat, you hand him the glass of water before going to make him some hot tea.

He's just set out his white dress shirt and dark suit onto the foot of the bed when you come back into the room with a mug filled with tea and a teaspoon of honey.

Drinking a long sip, he savors it while he sits with you on the rumpled covers. "Mmm, thanks."

You kiss his shoulder before chiming, "You're welcome," and settling in to lounge comfortably while the early morning news is playing on the TV.

The serene moment of just being with each other is something you both are leaning into, and are in no rush to leave the bubble of contentment.

He nurses his tea while you languidly caress your hand along his chest whilst you both skim the chyron to see the headlines.

With your head on his shoulder, you try to relax completely, but can't help the needling worry from yesterday begin to creep up.

"I called Kike already. He's picking me up around 8," Javi volunteers as he sets the mug aside on the nightstand, and you snap out of your faraway ruminating to hum in acknowledgement. "You got a busy day?"

Sighing, you wilt against him as you gripe, "Yes, and all I can think about is being back here after work and just lazing into a stupor."

"That sounds good to me," he drawls, before purring, "Can I join you?"

You laugh, "Of course, you dork," and sit up to goofily nuzzle his cheek.

Not to be outdone, Javi starts to rambunctiously fondle your curves, getting nice handfuls of your round ass while he suckles kisses along your neck. That soon gives way to you both fooling around, and the lust that had been dormant in you the last couple of weeks you've been apart sears up in your core. And when Javi's arousal presses against your lower belly before grinding against you, making your pussy throb? It takes everything in you not to become ravenous with need.

You manage to roll him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and kiss a luscious path from his jaw, down his neck, to his chest, all while Javi arches under you and groans – hands pawing to slip under your nighty and grip your hips so he can rut against you.

"Want you," he growls when he tries to sit up and pull you closer, but you shy away. "Querida—"

Sighing as you hold your ground and push him back down so you can resume your path down his torso, you murmur against his chest, "We don't have enough time, Javi—"

"I'll make time," he defies, trying to sit up again, but you nudge him back again.

"I don't want a frantic quickie, babe," you counter before trailing the tip of your tongue down the center of his abs, cause him to gasp and stiffen under you. "I want you in my mouth—"

His groan is starved, but his tone is hard when he grouses, "Come ride my tongue, and you can put it in your mouth, guapita."

How are you supposed to argue with such a salacious compromise?

Javier feels exhilarating urge flare in his apex from how swiftly you tugged his underwear off before yanking your nighty over your head and clambering to go reverse cowgirl so he can pull you down on his face. He slots his mouth to your eager cunt and licks into you just as you wrap your lips around the tip of his throbbing cock.

You both are so fine-tuned to each other's desires – know what turns the other on and how to pluck pleasure at such a viscerally sensual level – that it's intoxicating how quickly you're reaching bliss.

He loves it when you rock against his tongue to prolong your ecstasy, and you can't get enough of how he moans in completion into your quivering center when you hollow out your cheeks and stroke him into spilling his climax in the clutch of your mouth.

Needless to say, Javi is dopily sated as he's finishing getting dressed for work a short while later, just as you come out of the shower. You pause at the doorway and watch him swagger about whilst he pulls on his belt and loops it in the buckle before he starts fiddling with the ends of his green and blue-checkered-pattern tie tucked around his collar. Seeing him so relaxed and content is endearing, and you are struck then with how much you admire him, and how happy it makes you to know he's yours.

The sound of your feet padding over the tiled floor towards him makes that silly palpitation flutter in his chest, just before you encircle your arm around his waist and hug him from behind. He can smell your shower-warmed skin and the clean fragrance of your hair as he leans into you and reaches his hand backwards to cup your towel-clad lower back once your other hand caresses up to squeeze his deltoid affectionately.

"I love you, by the way," you flirtatiously sigh, as if it's a silly reminder you were compelled to voice just now.

Grunting gloatingly, he turns and wraps his arms around you before playfully hoisting you up against him so he can easily pepper soft kisses across your cheeks before purring irreverently, "And I'm madly in love with you, by the way."

You giggle and press your lips to his in a silly way and hum dramatically for him to let you down so you can stand on your tippy toes and grin up at him whilst you busily loop the ends of his tie into a perfect knot for him. At his confident smirk when you bat your lashes up at him, you chime, "Good. Because I just want to spend all weekend with you, to the risk of you getting sick of me."

Javi exhales a gruff scoff before snickering, "That's never gonna happen, corazón. Well, maybe the other way around—"

With a bossy tug to his tie, you purse your lips imperiously at him before cutting in with impish authority, "I haven't gotten sick of you so far, so I doubt I will, galán. So quit talking nonsense—"

"That goes for you too, then, malcriada," he ruggedly interjects and gives your waist a playful squeeze before nuzzling bossy kisses into your cheek, making you laugh brightly until that discordant little sigh flits out of you.

The sound of the SUV Kike drives pulling up to the front of the house has Javi exhaling huffily, so you sigh and cup his face with both hands before crooning, "No pouting, boss man. Go have a great day."

"Fine, I'll try," he grumbles, but his soulful eyes are warm and his smile is easygoing before he leans down and gives you a soft peck on the lips.

After tugging on his socks and black leather boots, he shrugs into his dark blazer, pockets his belongings from the dresser top, and steals one last kiss before rushing out to his ride.

Swooning onto the bed, you dreamily pine over how effervescent and tingly Javier made you feel. It truly eclipses anything else you were stressing or fretting about. So much so, you compartmentalize it all so you can focus on only the good feelings.

Discarding the towel, you hustle up to quickly dry your hair and get dressed for work. Once you're satisfied with your look, you turn everything off in the bedroom, open the windows, make the bed, and sprint out on your kitten heels to grab your purse and keys before heading down to the laundry room and out the marquesina door to get in your car and start the short commute to the Federal building.

While you're striding through the entry to head directly up to your office, Javier is coming off the elevator at the top floor of the building they've leased out to act as the DEA field office.

It's a nondescript building accessible off of a side street from the major avenue, and less than a mile from a principal artery of the nearby expressway. It took a lot of jockeying, but he and Steve were able to make the case to have the field office off of the federal campus, with close access to the main routes. The underground garage was secure, and the DEA agents on-site could make the office building their base of operations for surveillance, wiretaps, and old-fashioned detective work. CI's were met with off-site at another satellite location in the warehouse district that looked out on Puerto Rico Highway 22.

As he walks in his purposeful stride through the bullpen-styled office space, he can feel some of the personnel notice him and quickly find something to busy themselves with while junior agents greet him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. He curtly nods in acknowledgement to each as he goes, intent on getting to the conference room he and Steve have designated the "Case Room" for the time being.

His former partner and current co-SAC was in said room, listening while Segarra and the main senior agents on the case argue about the latest intel, when he glances up and sees Javi making his way over through the narrow sidelight in the corner of the room.

"He has risen," Steve jibes under his breath and relaxes as Javier opens the door and breezes in. "Nice of you to join us, Jav."

Cocking a glib brow at his friend and confidante, Javi goes to sit in the available desk chair someone had rolled in previously, recycling back in it with his arms crossed as he drawls, "Looks like I walked into the middle of a squabble session. What's the latest?"

"Basically, we think we have a solid lead on a distribution hub used by the main gang syndicate in the metro-area, but Segarra here is telling us we can't move on it," Lopez deadpans, but his sharp stare communicates how vexed by the ASAC he really is.

Javier can't help roll his eyes before shifting in his seat, resting one hand on the knee of the leg he just crossed while scrubbing his other palm impatiently across his mouth and idly along his cheek. The scent of cigarette smoke permeates the air stronger than everyone's cologne and the whiff of stale coffee, giving him an instant headache. Followed by a strong craving for nicotine.

"It's good intel, Jav. But we're being told our hands are tied here," Duffy chimes in gruffly as he leans casually in his chair and flicks the ash from his cigarette into his used coffee cup.

The constant static and tension between the agents and Segarra? It was something Javier had no patience for, and that was clearly becoming more palpable the thinner it wore down.

"Sir, that kind of operation would require us to execute it in coordination with the FBI. But Agent Bozzi's office has denied the request," Segarra argues, clearly tired of being the punching bag for the other agents.

"Duffy, you know a bunch of the guys over there. What do they got going on that would be more important than this co-op?" Javi asks the other man sat across from his partner, who was always better at keeping a poker face than Lopez.

"FBI has a lot of fingers in different pies when it comes to investigations down here. I heard they're working on a lot of financial fraud cases – that they staffed up their tax fraud personnel to go through tons of paperwork, but I haven't heard of anything big," is Duffy's reply before he lets loose the exhale of smoke from his cigarette. "I can ask around some more."

"Alright," Javi retorts before glancing over at Steve. "Wanna catch me up?"

"Sure," Steve responds as he gestures 'good luck' to the other men in the room before heading for the door.

Once he and Javier are in their shared office, Javi goes to his desk drawer and retrieves his backup pack of nicotine gum, popping one out of the tray and tossing it brusquely into his mouth.

"You should really try the patch," is Steve's aloof suggestion as he sits in the cushioned couch that's backed against the wall and faces the side of Javi's desk.

"I did, but the damn thing was itchy," Javi gripes as he chews on the gum and rubs the tension between his brows moodily. In a grumble, he adds, "This takes the edge off instantly, at least."

Humming, Steve segues topics with, "Anyway, as well-meaning as Segarra is, he's not endeared himself to the agents at all. Duffy and Lopez are stubborn, for sure, but he just doesn't have the authority to get much done."

"I know…" Javi mutters as he rubs the tension from his temples with his hand before dragging his palm down his face in frustration. "Still. That prick Bozzi shouldn't be shutting shit down like that without talking to one of us—"

"You, more precisely," Steve corrects, shrugging when Javi glowers at him. "Hey, you're the one in charge of coordinated operations with other agencies here. That means you gotta work with the guy," is his laconic retort, to Javi's added chagrin.

He stews about it for a few seconds before remarking dryly, "Besides that, we got plenty of stuff from CBP for these guys to start running down…"

While they continue to hash out the upcoming game plan for all the work happening in the agency and to come, you're deep in an auditing review for all the digital data processes requiring upgrading to the new standards at the other federal satellite sites on the island.

Your team had done a great job compiling the data, so while it was busy work, it really helped you diagnose what the next steps should be for each site, and come up with an automated plan that could be shared out with each specialist in charge of the upgrading.

Just as you're finalizing some notes for your report, your cell phone rings. You answer it and are surprised to hear from Jodalys.

"Hola, I'm not interrupting you with anything?"

"No, I'm just finishing up something at the office. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to let you know about a gala WAPA-TV is organizing. We have several big marketing sponsors, and I know local government officials are going to be in attendance, so I wanted to see if you think the Giving Back program would want to be a sponsor? You'd last mentioned how the Federal office wants to foster a tighter camaraderie with the locals, so I thought this could be a good way to do that?" she pitches enthusiastically.

"Yes, I think that would be something the program manager would definitely agree on! I'll speak with him, so give me the details?" you respond as you grab for your planner and find a blank page to scribble the date, time, etc that Jodalys dictates to you.

After running it by the program manager and his lead, who really likes the prospect, he starts making the arrangements, assuring you it might be just the kind of event even the Chief Executive Director, Mercer, would encourage the federal office workers to attend.

As you're feeling accomplished at the end of the day while you walk out to your car, Javier and Steve are hopping into the SUV with Kike to start the slog home through Friday rush hour.

Thankfully, Kike knows every shortcut and back route in the metro area, so they both settle in for the drive and continue their brainstorming session.

"—Maybe you can have Segarra oversee the rundown of those CBP sources. It'll keep him busy while the guys keep crackin' along with the ops prep," Steve is suggesting to Javi from the front passenger seat.

"…I guess," is Javi's lukewarm mutter, shrugging before propping his elbow on the door panel to rest his cheek in his palm. "Frankly, I'm at my limit of giving a shit right now."

Steve grunts and busies himself with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Yeah, I'm there with you. Definitely looking forward to relaxing. Which reminds me: Connie's wanting to spend the next few days just us and the kids, so hope it's ok if we skip dinner this weekend," he drawls coolly and peeks at Javi in the rearview mirror as he adds, "I got a lot of making up to do for being so busy while she's been stuck with Olivia, sick and all."

Nodding, Javi leans back in his seat and crosses his arms as he confides, "Celina said she wants to spend the weekend just lazing around together, so no worries. She's had a hectic couple weeks too."

Humming, Kike remarks conversationally while driving down a particular shortcut, "Yeah, Celina had a stressful time! That car accident, getting sick and all that. She said it couldn't have happened at a worse time with how busy she's been with work—"

Brows shooting up in surprise, Javi shifts forward and asks, "What car accident?"

Keeping his attention on the aggressive drivers ahead, Kike answers, "Oh, early last week. Her car hit a pothole and it messed up the wheel. She had it towed to her dealer. After, she called to see if I could give her a ride to work."

Steve can feel Javi bristling in the backseat, so he turns and shoots his friend a glance. "I take it she didn't mention it?"

Features hardening, Javi tucks his chin against his chest and leans back, but his shoulders are squared with tension, even as he tries to obfuscate, "It must've not been too serious—"

Unaware of the unease the other man is trying to bottle up, Kike beeps the horn at a rude driver before zooming around him, managing to multitask and cut in, "She said the hit was so hard that the tire came off. Luckily she wasn't on the autopista when it happened. The potholes in town are no joke."

"Shit. Was she ok?" Steve asks before Javi silently spirals in the backseat. "Well, she must've been—"

"Oh yes!" Kike assures, navigating the SUV down the intersection with confidence now that the main pockets of traffic have been traversed. "She was mostly worried about how it happened when she was very busy."

Before Javier let's his emotions swirl up, the rational side of him cleaves through with reasonable observations. Well she was busy, and then sick, and you were away so she likely didn't want to make you worry. It must've not been really bad, since her car is already fixed…

"She's clearly fine, Jav. Especially after nursing your overgrown ass back to health," Steve razzes, snapping Javi out of his internal ruminating. "Lord knows she's a saint for putting up with your shit. Even if you are a reformed and sweet-talkin' asshole now."

Giving him a snarky deadpan, Javi drawls, "Damn straight I am, and you better never motherfucking forget it, pendejo."

Kike chuckles at the exchange, always thoroughly amused by the frat-like banter between the two senior agents.

As they traverse the gated neighborhood and the SUV cruises down the street in order to drop off Javi first – prolonging the witty trash-talking session – a short while later, the rookie officer rounds the vehicle into a U-turn on the street in order to pull along the curb up to the blue-and-white bungalow.

"—I'm going to take her out for a nice dinner, as a matter of fact."

"With or without the kids?"

"I'm getting a babysitter—"

"You should, then you should romance her, for once. Try to remind her why she married your ass in the first place—"

"She remembers just fine, bud. What you need to worry about is finally getting your shit together and making Celina your wife already—"

"Sonuvabitch, you're fucking relentless—"

"Because I'm right and you know it—"

"And you know I'm working on it!" Javi scoffs wryly before patting Kike on the shoulder. "Thanks for being there for her. I really appreciate it."

"No thank you needed, sir! Siempre a la órden," Kike exclaims jovially before putting the car in park so Javier can slide over to the door nearest the curb.

"Say 'hi' to Celina for me, puto," Steve cheerfully rasps.

"Give my love to Connie and the girls, hillbilly," Javi counters glibly right back before wishing Kike a good night and exiting the car.

As the SUV drives off to Steve's, Javier strides up the sidewalk towards his driveway, where your car is parked right behind his in the open-air garage. He can't help round the sleek sedan, scanning it to see if there was any remnant of damage from the accident, but finding none under the early evening light. Grunting, he lopes to the garage door entry and let's himself in with his key.

"Is that you, Javi?" you call out from the bedroom.

"Yeah," he calls back before coughing, clearing his throat and absently twirling the keys in his hand while already striding through the laundry room, tugging the knot loose on his necktie as he treks across the living room.

When he comes into his bedroom, he finds you in semi-undress.

You'd just been stripping your blouse when you heard him come in, having fussed with rolling the portable TV out of the way to be tucked into the recessed corner by the window on your side of the bed. And now you were shedding the sateen tank underneath to place it onto the dry-cleaning pile just when Javier walked in, so you were in just your white lace bra, navy blue trousers and kitten heels.

"Hey," you greet as you flounce over and kiss him hello.

He smiles and tows you closer when you attempt to waltz off to the laundry basket sitting on the bed. "When you get home, hm?"

Smirking, you loop your hands around his nape and slink up against him, smelling the cologne on his skin and the sweet smell of the nicotine gum on his breath. "Not long ago. Like ten minutes or so?"

"And you're already doing busy work," he points out amusedly, before nuzzling your jaw.

"No, I just took out the load that was left in the dryer from last night," you reply while trying not to swoon at his lips grazing down your neck. "I-I forgot to take the dry-cleaning to get dropped off, so I was pulling them together—"

"Leave it. We're having a lazy weekend now, remember?" is his honeyed baritone rumble before he kisses a path back up your neck, leaving ticklish goosebumps thanks to his moustache in his wake.

"I do, b-but I just wanted to tidy up before I started dinner," you sigh dreamily as you practically melt in his arms from how he suckles that erogenous pulse point just below your jaw.

"Let's go out for dinner," he suggests in a low baritone that makes your toes curl. "Mmm, we had these great Cuban sandwiches for lunch from a place on the Roosevelt. You in the mood for anything specific?"

You know he's buttering you up with sexy kisses and caresses, so you nudge your temple against his cheek in a playful show of dominance before encircling his waist and leaning into him. "I could go for Cuban, actually. It's been a while since I've had congrí," you purr before pulling away to coquettishly finish stripping out of your work clothes, adding over your shoulder, "I'll put something on and we can go to a place I know."

Grunting in agreement, Javi leers as you slip your heels off before shimmying out of the fitted trousers while he distractedly empties out his pockets and sets his keys on the dresser. He ogles your bare skin while shedding his blazer, fantasizing of all the things he'd love to do to you after stripping you out of your undergarments.

Picking out a pretty yellow gingham dress from the closet, quickly pulling it on and fastening the front buttons, you slip on the closest pair of open toe leather sandals you have before snickering knowingly over your shoulder, "You better hop to it, guapetón."

He snorts and picks up the pace of changing out of his work clothes, smirking when you breeze by him and pat his tush on the way to the bathroom to brush out your hair.

Soon, you're both walking down the driveway to your car, getting in and backing out onto the street. As you drive, he asks you about your day, and you tell him about the proposed gala, unaware he's paying attention to how the vehicle handles to see if he can gauge any issues with it. When you're pulling into the parking lot tucked behind the Cuban cuisine establishment on the corner of the intersection across from the city park a short while later, he's weighing his options whether to just come out and ask you about it.

But then he admonishes himself for worrying to begin with, so he reconsiders asking, for the time being.

After you've parked, Javi rounds to your side to open your door and help you out, which you still find charming and chivalrous. And with his hand to the small of your back, he escorts you around to the front entrance and takes your lead when the hostess greets you and you ask to sit on the outside terrace.

Once seated, Javi admires the pretty hanging flower pots and decorative planters that keep the terrace cozy and cool under the early twilight. Across the way is a grassy lot that looked like was used during the day for a food truck spot, and there were a few stray cats hanging out in the shade of the building.

You strategically sit adjacent Javi instead of across from him so you could lean over and reach him easily for kisses, which he's more than content to shower you with. When your waiter takes your orders and returns shortly with your drinks, you take a nice long sip from yours.

Smirking, Javi croons, "I guess there's no better place to get a Cuba Libre than at an authentic Cuban spot, hm?"

Sighing contentedly, you nod and simper, "That is correct, agente."

He chuckles and sips his own whiskey while reaching under the table to affectionately squeeze your knee. "So, besides helping organize the feds to get in on another ritzy party, how else did the rest of your day go?" is his quipping question.

Scoffing, you sneer goofily, "Hey! I did no such thing. And anyway, it's always good for the locals and the feds to find camaraderie somehow." At his wry grunt and lopsided smirk, you roll your eyes and yield, "And, any excuse for a party is something they tend to jump at here. But at least it was a decent distraction from the busy-work I did most of the day."

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass idly, Javi asks, "That upgrade program you were telling me about?"

"Yeah. All the leads had to do diagnostics of their designated sites. Going through it all to allocate the hours and funding for the upgrading has been a pain," you respond and brush the few stray strands that fluttered up across your cheek from the soft breeze wafting through the terrace. "Eventually, I'll have to make a trip out to St. Thomas to help the team lead there—"

You pause when the waiter returns with your meals, and you both thank him before you place your napkin in your lap and wish Javier a 'Buen Provecho' as you're eagerly taking a bite.

"Buen Provecho," he offers back before digging into his arroz con pollo and carne con papas. "So, you were saying something about a trip?"

"Ah, yes – to St. Thomas. Things have been so hectic I haven't had much time to plan for it," you reply smoothly before eating the tender sliver of pernil with gusto along with your forkful of rice.

"Speaking of hectic, Kike mentioned you had an issue with the car last week?" Javi remarks in a casual tone, knowing not to fish too obviously.

Internally groaning, you realize you should've expected the young officer to mention it to Javier, so you dramatically sigh as you admit, "Yes, I was driving to work after an early appointment in town and I hit the mother of all potholes after an intersection. I had just gotten the car serviced, remember? So it looks like they didn't tighten the bolts or something well enough on one of the tires and it went flying after hitting that pothole."

Javi balks, "Jesus Christ, what kind of a fuck-up was in charge and didn't check to make sure—"

Your hand clasps at his forearm reassuringly as you rush out before he can get worked up, "Mistakes happen. I'm just glad it was fixable and no one got hurt. Don't get all ornery about it, babe."

He huffs out of his nose and scowls, but at your irreverent look and patting of his forearm for him to loosen up, he grunts laconically, "You didn't mention it."

"Javier, you were busy! I didn't want to tell you while you were away. You were stressed out enough, so I didn't want that looming in the back of your mind, making you worry when there wasn't anything you could do anyway," you insist, adding, "And with everything going on this week, it kind of fell off the list of things that were front of mind."

Knowing you had a point, he relents with a nod, "You're right," and continues eating.

You enjoy the validation of being told you're right by your typically stubborn lover, so you smile around your next bite.

"How's the field office coming along?" you ask him after you've sipped your drink.

"It's finally up, and all the field agents are working out of there now. We got Segarra posted there. Steve and me will rotate being there and at our clerical office in the Federal building," he explains before taking another healthy forkful into his mouth.

"Good. And did CBP help you guys with what you needed?" is your next query as you scoop your next bite of congrí up.

"…We got some leads, but I honestly don't know if it'll amount to much. I just have this inkling that no one is really close to cracking things at all. Just treading water," he answers you candidly, giving you a one-shouldered shrug as he adds, "But then I'm used to having a clear target, and that's not how things are here, so far."

You hum at that as you chew. Once you've swallowed, you dab your lips before remarking, "Well, I'm selfishly glad you're not going to be personally in the field anymore, and that you and Steve have a team down here that is capable of all that—"

"I wasn't in the field during the Cali case," he muses, and at your sarcastic stare, he modifies, "Not as much as I'd been on previous cases, anyway."

"Javi, are you trying to forewarn me here that you're going to go on raids and extract informants personally again?" you imperiously deride as you cross your arms and lean back in your chair, gaze sharpening on his expression.

"No, I was just clarifying that I wasn't in the field much during Cali, is all. And I don't plan on being in the field at all this time around," he assures as smoothly as possible, and at your unconvinced stare, he takes your hand and squeezes it. "It's different this time, querida. The way we're structured down here? I have plenty of senior agents who know what they're doing, and all I gotta do is help cut through red tape, schmooze the local government, and coordinate the inter-agency ops, when needed," is his confident reassurance, adding sardonically, "Plus, I'm too old for chasing fuckers across rooftops and down balconies. I'm more than content to oversee the investigation and make decisions over being in the field."

Your eyes twinkle in the waning daylight as you tilt your face towards him with a coy smile. "Are you sure?" you find yourself asking, and at Javi's curious look, you give his fingers a squeeze before folding your hands into your lap, wringing them together as you're elaborating, "I've been thinking about it. You always preferred to be out front. Sitting back and relaxing in your position of authority drove you stir-crazy. I—I guess I'm just worried that you won't be able to keep yourself from getting invested. No matter how much you don't plan to or even want to."

His features etch soberly at your words. Leaning forward, he murmurs, "I meant what I said, mi amor. All the chasing – the frantic hunting for pinche asesinos is over for me. I always felt like it would only count if I was the one to nail them, but what you said? About things not going down the way I dictate or believe they should? It stuck with me, for a long time. I realized my priorities were, well, fucked up."

Surprised to hear this, you ask, "What do you mean?"

With a cleansing breath, he utters his answer with unwavering certainty.

"I wanted my life – what I did with it – to matter, and getting justice consumed all my priorities. But it wasn't until I brought it all down and ended up feeling no different – that nothing had changed but me, that I realized I had it all wrong and had lost myself to it. I don't ever want to end up there again."

He finds it liberating when it comes out of his mouth. It was a burden he didn't know he was holding onto until it was said.

"Oh, Javi," you murmur and lean close to brush your hand lovingly over his cheek. His dark, soulful eyes are gentle, and your heart aches as you whisper, "I'm sorry for ever making you doubt yourself—"

Javi gathers your hand in both of his and tells you decisively, "You didn't, cariño. What you said was a wakeup call. You made me doubt what I was doing, and why. Having to sit with that and work through it was something I'd avoided. But once I did, I realized what mattered to me was making a life, and doing the best I can to make it a good one I can be proud of."

Your features blossom into open admiration, making it easy for him to cup your cheek and brush a covetous kiss to your lips before he stares into your eyes and declares, "I want to make a life with you. And that matters to me more than anything else."

The emotion that wells up in your chest at his words steals your breath, making you want to express it the only way you can.

You scootch out of your seat so you can kiss Javier passionately before hugging him tight.

He pulls you to sit on his thigh so he can easily hold you to him, feeling relief and pride radiate through him as you nuzzle his neck. His hand cradles the back of your neck when lean back to gaze lovingly at him, and his heart skips when your eyes shine with devotion at him. Then, as if the world around you came back into focus, you girlishly slink back into your chair when you remember yourself and your surroundings.

With a sweet smile, he winks at your sheepish exhale when another dining group comes onto the terrace to sit at a larger table across from where you're both sat close to the veranda.

There was so much spinning up excitedly in your heart at his words, leaving your thoughts skipping along scenarios you both still needed to discuss and plan for, expectations you had yet to share, and desires unstated between you both. Just as you feel unsettled by thought of, What kind of life will he want to make together? You jolt at the sensation of something butting against your ankle.

You look down and realize one of the cats has come onto the terrace and is begging for food.

Javi watches you smile, then covertly glance around before shredding the rest of the roasted meat on your plate and piling the minced morsels on the floor for it.

"Come, gatito," you whisper to the orange cat, and watch it do just that, eagerly gobbling up the meat before scampering off back to its shady area on the other side of the veranda.

"That reminds me. You didn't get an annoying cat down here. How come?" is Javier's irreverent query as he nurses his drink.

Idly wiping your fingertips on your napkin, you tilt your head drolly at him as you retort, "My landlady didn't allow pets. And I didn't think it would be fair to have a cat, with how much I'd be working and traveling."

He hums, tempted to remark, 'Well when we move in together, it'll be a place we can have an inside-outside cat,' but decides against it. Instead, he muses, "Olivia has been trying to wear Steve down about getting a puppy. She didn't get one for Christmas, and got Isabel as a sister instead."

You laugh, delighted by the anecdote, and fall into banter about your now-comingled group of friends.

After sharing a flan de queso for dessert, Javier pays the tab and escorts you to the parking lot, holding your hand as you cross towards the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you amusedly hand him your keys when he gets in on the driver's side. As he navigates out to the main intersection en route for home, you fiddle with the radio before setting it on the Magic 97.3 station, and smile as the late 80's single plays.

Snickering, he steers the wheel with one hand while he props the other behind your head rest. "We gotta go out dancing soon. When're you gonna show me the nightlife scene here, eh, dancing queen?" is his playful croon, winking at you when you give him a coquettish smirk.

"Well, that gala sounds like it'll have music and dancing. And if that's not enough, I'm up for dancing anything you want, anywhere," you flirt right back.

Pursing his full lips intriguingly, he drawls, "Square dancing?"

You snort, comically rolling your eyes as you lilt, "Ok, fine, maybe not anything. But salsa, merengue, bachata, cumbia, vallenato—"

"Lambada, perreo," he continues impishly, giving you that teasing, smoldering glance before bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.

You snicker and squeeze his jean-clad thigh, razzing, "Alright, fresco. Whatever one you're up for, I'll gladly be your dance partner."

"Good. But tonight? We're rollin' around the sheets," he cockily declares, grinning when you girlishly laugh.

You're gleeful that he's true to his word once you both get home.

It's actually a breezy night out, so you're happily cranking the bedroom windows all the way open when Javi walks in from locking up. He surprises you when you turn back from slipping off your sandals into the closet and are unfastening the first three buttons of your dress.

Encircling your waist, he holds you close while taking over unbuttoning your dress open for you while rocking you in a slow waltz-like sway. Titillated, you lean into his broad frame and nuzzle his jaw, caressing your hands up his back and smiling into his yearning kiss.

Your soft perfume and warm skin have a shiver skittering through him as you let his hands maneuver the dress off your torso and pool at your feet while his mouth sets a worshipful path along your flushing features and jaw. Sighing wistfully, you bury your fingers in the back of his hair when he trails his lips covetously down the column of your neck while his hands unclasp your bra.

"Mmm, you need to strip too, you know," you dreamily chime when you shed your bra and tug naughtily on the front of his caramel-colored button down before plucking the first few buttons open.

Scoffing ruggedly, he showily kicks his boots off and unbuckles his belt while giving you a molten look. "I'm trying to pace myself," is his husky murmur as he pauses in unzipping his jeans to let you tug his shirt's hem loose and resume unbuttoning it for him.

"No one told you to pace yourself, chulito," you tease in a sultry purr as you push his shirt off of his shoulders and pluck his jeans open before unzipping his fly.

It turns him on the way you sensually stare up at him through your lashes while shoving his jeans down before kissing along his bare chest.

Making short work of kicking them off his legs, Javier whisks you up against him and takes you to bed, where you both peel the clothes left between you off and amorously kiss and caress each other until you're salaciously fooling around.

The ceiling fan undulates the cool air over your heated forms as Javi rolls you under him while you cling to his body and giggle effervescently from his mustachioed kisses to your collar while he fidgets from your ticklish touch along his sides.

You're both content to canoodle and tease each other with nuzzles and caresses while your hips carve into each other, prolonging the delicious foreplay out while making desire stoke swelteringly where his arousal and yours press up.

Rolling to straddle him, you lusciously capture his lips with yours while gliding your palm to grind the underside of his cock along the silken heat of your cunt, relishing his groan and how his grip on your hips becomes possessive.

Breaking the kiss and nudging your nose into his cheek to get his obedience, you alluring whisper, "All I've wanted all day, is to make love with you, hermoso."

The lust in his dark eyes is scintillating as he husks, "Yeah?"

Humming sexily, you kiss him before susurrating against his panting lips, "Yes."

Javier rolls so you're on your back and he can nestle his ramrod erection into your clenching heat after hiking your leg over his hip just as he rocks forward.

You moan and arch up into him, and end up snickering breathlessly when he swears huffily, "Mmph, love, not fucking."

"It's really sexy that you know the difference, bebito," is your cheeky lilt when he clearly is trying to rein in his lascivious libido. At his haughty stare, you simper, "It is!"

Huffing amusedly out of his nose and shaking his head, Javi cracks a lopsided smile before sighing hoarsely, "Luckily for you, I've wanted to love you up all day too," as he shifts so you're both lying on your sides, facing each other while he's still inside you.

Your smile is radiant when he works his hips in that exquisitely ruinous undulation that lights you up with pleasure, leading into the passionate kisses and salacious clutching of your bodies as ecstasy pulses through your center while he groans sweet filth and earns your breathy praise and supplications for more.

And when he seats the pad of his thumb against the hood of your clit and grinds delectable pressure into it while stroking his throbbing cock deep inside your sheath, you cry out a rapturous sound and dig your fingertips into his lats, toes curling in bliss as you reach climax. Javi prolongs it by swirling circles over your pleasure point while thrusting at that angle that has him brushing against the bundle of nerves nestled where you can't reach, relishing your whimpers and mewls as you dissolve under him.

He nudges a gloating kiss into your cheek and keeps nuzzling you impishly when you sigh and smile dazedly at him before petting his brow and cupping the side of his neck lovingly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to meet your insatiable kiss.

Shifting you both so he's on his back, you take the reins of the lovemaking by grinding down on his cock and clenching your floor muscles around it while showering kisses along his cheeks, brow, jaw and neck. Your hands are braced to his chest, keeping him pinned to lie back and let you untangle the lascivious urge loose from his core as you ride him the way he loves. The sexy sight of you – skin dewy and warm, breasts bouncing from how hard and fast you're fucking yourself on him, features rapt with ecstasy while your gaze remains fixed on his – is the thing of Javi's dreams, and when your mouth falls open on a whine of his name, it's what sears him through with his release.

His gruff moan catches in his chest when you mewl and curl into him, reaching bliss and writhing in the throes of sensational gratification together.

The enchanting glee of being ravished and full hits you like a wave as the post coital haze buzzes through you. It isn't until you've melted back into yourself that you realize Javi has rolled you onto your back and is pulling out of your tingling heat.

Quivering, you whine for him to stay in bed, thinking he's going to go retrieve a washcloth. Instead, Javi hushes you with a possessive kiss that has his tongue marking its territory in your mouth before he maps a salacious path with it down your neck, the valley of your breasts, the line of your stomach and the crest of your sex.

With the flat of his tongue, he gives you gentle aftercare, careful not to lick or nuzzle your tender pussy too eagerly that would overstimulate and hurt you.

"Oh, Javi…" you hiccup airily before shivering from him blowing cool air over your scorching center before he hums and brushes a soft kiss to your womb.

His eyes gleam with contentment when he stares down at you, so you reach for him and lure him to lie on top of you, held in your arms.

Javi feels serenity fill him as your hand brushes over his hair while he rests his head on your chest, content to stay like this with you forever, if it were possible.

You feel him relax in your embrace and let out a sated exhale, the warmth of his breath puffing against your breast seeming to be a tired one, so you don't expect him to mumble in a honeyed purr, "Te quiero, mi amor."

Feeling elated, you continue to run your fingers through his hair soothingly as you whisper, "Te amo con todo mi corazón, Javier."

It's the greatest way to fall asleep – being told you love him with all your heart, while held in your arms.

So much so, Javi sleeps soundly through the night, and would've slept long into the late morning if not for the sound of loud revving of a car engine out on the street in front of the house.

Startling awake, Javi shifts up in bed and finds he's alone. Concerned, he clambers out from the rumpled covers and retrieves a pair of sweatpants from the dresser before hastily yanking them on.

"¿Querida?" he calls out as he peeks into the bathroom and finds it empty before walking out through the hallway door towards the main living space.

As he approaches the laundry room's entry, he realizes the loud car engine is coming from a vehicle idling in front of his driveway, so he goes out to see what's going on – and finds a mint-blue Bronco beach cruiser parked at the curb, with you in the driver's seat.

You beep the horn with a spritely smile before sitting up on your knees in the seat so you can shout, "Ready for a beach day, stud?"

Incredulous, he pads over barefoot down the cement drive to the sidewalk when you shut the engine off and retrieve shopping bags from the backseat. He sees you're wearing a halter top-styled peach cover-up dress and watermelon-colored two-piece bikini underneath it.

"Where'd you get this from?" he asks, holding the car door open for you so you can hop out with the bags.

"I rented it," you declare brightly before handing him the bags. "Now, these are for you, so go inside and change," is your wily command before cupping his cheek and kissing his stupefied expression off his handsome face.

Pinching his waist affectionately, you nudge Javi along back up the driveway and into the house while he peeks into the shopping bags and finds several swim trunks, flip flops, and beach shirts – all of which looked like would fit him perfectly.

"What the—I thought you wanted to spend a lazy weekend in?" Javi chuckles as you both make it into the living room.

"Well, I woke up early, and watched the news while I folded the laundry, and they said it's supposed to be a balmy, sunny day," you retort as you follow him into the bedroom, adding, "So I thought it'd be a good excuse to go for a nice seashore excursion. I can't believe you didn't have any bathing suits!"

He laughs, then coughs before answering, "I probably haven't worn one since swim team in high school, guapita."

"Alright, pick one, put it on, and let's go!" is your wily exclamation as you change your own sandals for white hibiscus-patterned flip flops you pulled from the bag.

A short while later and Javier is locking up the door before following you to the beach cruiser, rounding it to get in on the passenger's side after your climb into the driver's seat.

"—Do we need to stop anywhere?" he's asking as you turn the car on. "Any beach snacks? Towels?"

"Ah, I got a cooler filled up already, and I thought we could stop at kioskos for snacks while on the way," you tell him as you reach into the space behind your seat and pull out the lovely beach tote Javier surprised you with. "And, I got the beach towels and necessities packed in here already. So, ready to head out?" is your spunky query, winking at him.

Sitting in the seat next to you, in the light blue beach shirt and navy swim shorts, Javi smirks proudly at your dazzling smile.

"Fuckin' A, I am, bravita. Lead the way."

It's been such a long time since you both spent the day out together, that you're each appreciating every single moment while on the road, at the kiosko pit stops, and even in the stop-and-go traffic on the beach route off of the highway. The sun is out, the breeze is cool, the radio plays the pop station crisply, and the frituras are delicious as you both cruise down the northeast coast of the island, all while you and Javi laugh and banter about.

The scenery becomes more and more lush, tropical, and rural the further you cruise towards the hidden gem of a beach you're telling Javi about, wind in your hair and excitement filling your eyes as you gush, "We're gonna have a bit of a trek on foot, but I promise it's going to be worth it."

"I trust you. I'm just surprised anything is secret, with tourism being as big as it is here," he remarks good-naturedly.

"Ah, true. But there are so many little nooks along the shoreline and people tend to go to the bigger, well-known beaches across the island. My father loved exploring secluded spots, and when I was little, he'd take us to the hidden beaches he'd found growing up," is your exuberant explanation as you pull off the rural backroad onto a rough-trodden path.

Javi is impressed with your knowledge and navigation skills as you steer the beach cruiser over the terrain until you hit a slight hill that flanks a thicket on one side and more lush trees on the other. Maneuvering the vehicle around so it's already pointing back the way you drove in from, you park and put the brake on before reaching in the backseat for the tote. While you do so, Javi gets out and goes to the trunk to grab the little red cooler.

"Ok, it's gonna be about a 10 minute walk this way," you're telling him after you get out of the car and round it to the lush tree line, smiling when Javi chivalrously takes your hand and helps you step around a mucky spot that's in the path.

"You know, this kind of reminds me of that time, in Cartagena," he rumbles ruggedly while you both walk side-by-side, holding hands through the hidden footpath.

"That was just as naughty as this. Even naughtier, even," you snicker and squeeze his hand goofily.

"Shit, is this illegal?" he laconically grumbles, quickly glancing around to see if there are any 'Do not trespass' signs around, posted somewhere amongst the foliage.

"There's no such thing as illegal access to a beach, silly," you tell him, and Javi is about to point out how that doesn't answer his question, when you quickly add, "It would only be illegal if this was a naval-restricted zone, and it isn't. It's naughty because we're going to have the beach all to ourselves, which feels kinda wrong."

Grunting, he rasps, "We could've gone to a regular beach, you know. I was only teasing about lounging on a secret playa just the two of us—"

"Hey, I promised you a seashore adventure, so quit being a modest suavón," you heckle irreverently and tug him along to follow you down a veer in the path.

He chuckles, and decides to do just that, and soon enough you're both stepping around some tall, thick-leafed, cactus-like bushes between a smattering of palm trees to emerge onto the secluded beach shore that looks out on a crescent-shaped cove of turquoise, rolling waves beyond the warm, tan sands. The breeze is placidly swaying the foliage and the cawing of birds in the sunny sky add to the picturesque ambiance of the water lapping up along the coastline.

"Holy shit," Javi gapes, in awe of the beautiful seaside oasis.

Exuberantly, you tug him by his hand along towards the nice spot on the soft tan sands of beach under a shady canopy of palms, telling him, "Watch your step."

Maneuvering over some fallen palm trunks and husks, you both make quick work of staking a favorable spot.

The beach blanket is a big square Javi pins from flopping in the breeze with the red cooler and your tote at the strategic corners, and once you've both gotten down to your swimsuits and folded your clothes to stay warm in the sunny corner of it, you pull out some towels and Javi unrolls them over the blanket while you rifle through the tote.

As you do so, you coquettishly cajole him into sitting with, "C'mon, we have to wait a while before swimming," smiling when he does so before casually reclining back with his arms propped backwards.

His broad shoulders are relaxed as he stares out at the tropical water, making for a delicious sight as you distractedly retrieve the sunscreen from your tote. This hunk is all mine.

With delight, you dutifully rub sunscreen into his shoulders and back, and intend to put the lotion on your own arms and shoulders when Javi plucks the bottle from your hand and has you crawl over to sit in front of him on the towel that he'd draped down for you.

"You know, I could get used to this," Javi muses as he massages the sunscreen into your back, mindful of the bikini straps in his way. When you hum curiously, he elaborates, "Enjoying the sun and sand, staring out at the waves, lounging around with you. Going on getaways together."

"Is that so?" you singsong as you turn and smile at him over your shoulder. At his cocky smirk, you turn completely around so you can lean forward and purr teasingly, "So my plan to romance you into loving island life is working, hm?"

The way the sun catches in his dark brown eyes have them shining like copper when he grins brilliantly and leans back on his elbows so you have to loom over him sexily. "As if it took any real effort. I really like it here, preciosa," is his debonair murmur as he reaches up to tuck some rogue strands of hair behind your ear. "And, I really like my view right now."

You prop your stance with your arms draping around his shoulders and lean closer so you can kiss him tenderly on the lips, before lilting, "Good. I want this to be a place that feels like home."

The way your eyes shone with dazzling delight while the sun's rays frame you, making him feel punch-drunk, bewitch him for a second, so he's disarmed when you suddenly ruffle his hair daringly before hopping up and running down to the shore while shouting over your shoulder, "Now come catch me if you can, special agent guapito!"

Scoffing comically, Javier scrambles up and runs over the hot sand to go in after you.

The afternoon is filled with you both swimming and splashing each other, goofing around and floating in the shallows while the waves lap warmly at the surface, and canoodling buoyantly while you cling to him as you chat and he treads water for you both.

Once you're each tuckered out by the waves, you'd headed back to the beach blanket, toweled off, and lounged together under the sun, laying over your towel while you let the warm rays dry you. He retrieves beverages from the cooler for you both to enjoy while relaxing on post-swim-tired muscles.

Javi's sipping from the ice-cold can of Medalla while you set your soda aside so you can untie the straps of your bikini top before laying out on your stomach.

Staring at the expanse of naked skin exposed to the hot sun now, Javi asks, "You want me to get your back?"

"No, that's ok. I just want to even out so I don't have tan lines," you reply as you fold your arms down and rest with your head pillowed by your pile of clothes.

He hums, and you feel him shift from the spot he'd been sat, before there's a light tug on the strings of one hip on your bikini bottoms. "You forgot about these tan lines," is his rugged drawl as he unties the other hip's strings.

You giggle before sitting up on your folded arms and sassily chastising, "Only you see those tan lines, fresco. So I wasn't planning on going Blue Lagoon out here—!"

"Never saw it," Javi drolly retorts, earning your comical scoff. He mischievously continues, "You said this is a secluded spot, so…" and deliberately tugs the undone bikini bottom off of you.

Laughing, you reply, "Well, the nearest community from here is over a mile away, and the fisherman don't tend to come this way," and roll sidelong to give him a sultry look as you tease, "You really never saw that movie?"

"No way," he snickers, fanning his fingers along the curve of your buttocks to brush off the sand sticking to your cheeks. At your amused, albeit dubious hum, Javier concedes, "My cousins did, though, and talked about how cheesy it was. And, it just seemed weird to have such a young girl prancing around naked like that in a movie."

"Ah, good point," you chime before going to stretch out onto your back, as if you're not completely nude and under the warm rays of the sun. With your eyes closed, you relax and let out a cleansing sigh.

Despite his coaxing, Javi looks around to make sure no one is peeping from the trees at you before asking, "What's the movie about, again?" and resumes drinking from his beer can as he shuffles towards your sunbathing form.

You're basking in the warm heat of the sun and the tranquil breeze as you sense his form sidle close to you.

"It's about two kids who get shipwrecked on a deserted island in the South Pacific during the Victorian era. They grow up together, hit puberty, and start fooling around—"

He watches your breath hitch when his fingertips cooled by the condensation of the beer can skim teasingly along your lithe belly to brush off some clinging sand grains from your skin. "Ah, ok yeah, I remember Carla joking about that," he remarks smoothly while trailing his touch in lazy circles up your midriff towards your breasts, skimming a path up the valley of your sternum before tracing them along your collarbones. "Don't they start fucking like animals in heat?"

It's taking everything in you to keep your eyes closed and not sit up and pounce on him right now, especially when his touch skims back down to map your left areola before he pinches your nipple. Biting back a gasp, you answer tightly, "Y-Yes, and then she gets pregnant but they don't know what's happening to her because they never got the birds and the bees talk."

With an intrigued hum, Javi admires your naked form, relishing how it looks under a sunny sky. The way your nipples hardened even with the heat of the sun keeping your skin warm and dewy. How your tummy tensed with excitement at his touch. You clench your thighs together now, and it draws his gaze to the chalice of your pelvis and the soft curls at your mound, so he swipes more condensation from his can onto his fingers and guides his cooled digits to trace at the heat between your thighs.

Your eyes open as you stifle a mewl and blush furiously under his handsome stare. "Does it have a happy ending?" is his cool query, while his fingers rub delicious pleasure into your now throbbing clitoris, making your cunt drip with need.

Not trusting your voice, you nod and bite your bottom lip as to not whimper too loudly, one hand gripping the towel underneath you while the other clutches at his elbow.

"Maybe we can find a deserted island and spend all our time fooling around," is his canela-roughened rumble in your ear as his fingers work to get you off.

Arching, your thighs clamp around his hand when you orgasm, hearty cry of, 'Javi!' getting muffled against the back of your palm while Javi watches you ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling content and accomplished.

The tingly bliss that settles in as you lay sated and naked under the sunshine fills you with splendor, making you sigh and stare up dreamily at Javier while he licks his fingers clean of your climax before using the edge of the towel to give you aftercare.

Pleased with himself, Javi was about to pick up his can to finish the beer, when you surprise him by taking it from him, draining it with one long drink, and then setting it aside before nudging him to lean back so you can straddle his hips as you slip your hands down the front of his swim trunks.

His erection is thick and throbbing in your palms, and Javi swears hotly before gripping your waist and hitching gruffly with warning, "Q-Querida, we shouldn't—"

"Shh, lay back and let me make love to you, sweet boy," you purr sensually at him before nuzzling his cheek and capturing his lips with yours.

Savage pride flares up in him at your words, so he obeys and lets you push his swim trunks down to free his rock-hard cock, and keeps his hands on your waist while you plunge yourself down on it with slow undulations that have your sheath squeezing and gripping around his length.

Truthfully, if anyone had come upon you and spied from the tree lines, neither of you would've noticed. Not with how fixated on each other's pleasure you both were.

It feels surreal. Being outside, under a tropical sky, the scent of salt, sunscreen, sweat and the heat of the sun above and the sand beneath the blanket mingled with the cool air from the sea and the sounds of untouched nature mixing with your comingled cries of pleasure. It's all a sensory overload. And the sight of you in your naked glory, rocking up and down on his throbbing arousal, is enthralling. You are intent on giving into the need you feel burning under his skin – in the desperate grip of his hands as they clutch your curves with every buck and roll of your hips over him.

Having this little moment of paradise with each other only stokes the blazing desire to quickly sweep up between you, and you can feel Javi's muscles begin to tense under your palms – see how lustrous and dark his eyes have gone with lust.

So, you mewl, "Dámelo, mi amor," as you start to ride him hard, the way you know drives him wild. "I want it, Javi—"

The world spins when Javi sits up and rolls so you're on your back while he looms over you and seats his thumb over the hood of your clit, grinding the thrumming pleasure point deftly and getting you there with him just as his cock starts to swell inside of you.

Your cry of ecstasy is pitched and airy as you come, walls fluttering around him just as he feels the tether of pleasure snap loose in his center. Rapt with delirious bliss, you watch Javi pull out of your drenched heat and stroke himself off to spill his release over your womb and taut tummy as he groans hoarsely from the dizzying effort of staying propped above you while his senses buzz.

When he curls down to sidle next to you with a husky, "Oh fuck," between panting breaths, you smile and cuddle close. "That…that was fucking hot, querida."

Letting out a pleased grunt, you absently trail your fingertips in the pearly essence he left on your skin, before lulling your head to nose into his neck and tut, "It's a naughty getaway. Of course it'd be hot, chulito."

He snorts at that and kisses on you dotingly before shimmying his trunks back up and using the damp towel he'd dried off with earlier to wipe up his cum, then swiping the terrycloth material between your thighs gingerly. You gorgeously smile up at him from heavy-lidded eyes and blushed features as he tends to you, so he kisses your cheek and whispers tenderly, "Wanna lounge for a bit?"

You nod, close your eyes and sigh whimsically, completely uncaring that you're still in the nude. Javi gives a cautionary glance around before laying on his side in a strategic way that allows his broad frame to keep you blocked from view before he stretches out next to you and rests his head on his folded arm.

Thanks to the sun moving in the sky, you both end up napping in the heat-kissed shade, lulled into relaxation by the sound of the waves and the rustling of the palms from the tropical breeze.

When he wakes a short while later, he ends up appreciatively staring at your placid expression. He wishes he could take a picture, and snickers at the thought of your appalled reaction of being snapped in the nude like this.

Your skin is warm as he drapes a towel over your form, which stirs you awake. And when you stare up at him with a sleepy smile, he leans down and kisses you tenderly on the lips before helping you sit up to cuddle into his side as you get your bearings.

Seeing the sun beginning to wane towards the horizon, you both decide to throw your clothes back on and pack up everything so you can make the trek back along the path to the car while it's still light out. You're both pleasantly tan and content as you walk through the lush greenery, and once you're back at the beach cruiser, Javi stores the cooler in the trunk and helps you climb up into the driver's seat before getting in on the passenger's side.

It feels wonderfully surreal that you got to spend the day with him like this, and the giddy contentment of it flutters up from your tummy as you drive and banter in flirty repartee – with every smile and laugh he lets loose.

After getting back to the metropolitan area, you drive to the rental shop, drop off the beach cruiser and get everything into your sedan before Javi chivalrously offers to drive you both home.

The sunset has already come and gone by the time he's pulling up into his driveway and parking behind his car.

Once you've both exited and tend to the beach items in your care, Javi stretches his back as he remarks, "Shit, I am beat."

"It was all the swimming against the waves," you reply while pulling out the blanket from the beach to shake it loose of any sand over the grassy side lot of the fenced in yard from the inside of the marquesina.

With the cooler in his hand, Javi shuts the trunk and rounds the car to walk up to the interior of the garage as you continue shaking out the towels of sand before following him up once he's unlocked the door.

Smugly, he drawls, "That, and all the sun. Not to mention the hot little number—"

His charming gloat becomes a grunt when you pat his tush for him to quit talking filth so you can take your tired self and mosey into the house.

"I'm going to run everything in the wash, so make sure to drop your trunks in too," you tell him with the blanket bundled in your arm and the beach tote on your shoulder, spritely look in your eyes teasing.

"Alright. I'll do that after I dump the ice out of this," is his baritone rumble as he holds the door open for you.

"Ok. I'll run the shower too once I'm done, if you wanna join?" is your flirty invitation as you prep the washer with everything from the beach day.

"Like you need to ask," he chuckles, pinching your side affectionately before loping down the hall towards the kitchen.

Smiling, you quickly set the machine on its cycle before retrieving your other belongings from the tote and taking it down to the bedroom. Once you've slipped them back into your purse and stored the beach tote on a shelf in the closet, you head to the bathroom to run the shower.

You'd just finished getting the eucalyptus stems down from the shower head to be set aside on the vanity, then started reaching behind yourself to undo the halter drawstring of your dress when you feel Javier come up behind you and caress his touch up your bare back before pulling the fastening loose for you.

His lips graze a teasing path from the back of your shoulder up the slope of your neck as he works the dress down your body to pool at your feet, earning a breathy giggle and for you to take his hands and loop his embrace around your waist.

It's then when he presses flush against you from behind that you feel he's already naked, so you snicker, "Did you strut in the buff through the house?"

"You said to put my swimsuit in the wash, mandona," he purrs puckishly into your ear as he starts herding you towards the shower stall. "C'mon, let's get the saltwater out of our hair."

You merrily oblige your brazen hunk, and soon are under the hot cascade, rinsing the soap and suds from your hair while Javi works his fingers through your waterlogged tresses for you.

"Mmm, your turn," is your blithe sigh as you turn and maneuver around him so he's facing the showerhead. His chuckle is warm as you lather the shampoo into his hair, so you deride, "What's so funny, chavón?"

"I just pictured how silly we probably look right now. With you on your tippy toes, washing my hair for me," is his humored retort, and he makes his point by standing on tiptoe so you have a hard time reaching the crown of his soapy curls.

Scoffing, you playfully swat his bicep and grunt for him to stop being silly. "Pórtate bien, fresco. Or else you're getting a spankin' before bedtime," is your saucy threat.

With an amused snort, he resumes letting you wash his hair, and ends up smirking into the showerhead's spray after you daringly nudge his head into the cascade.

Not to be outdone, Javi shifts carefully around and shakes the excess water logged in his thick hair to splash about, wetting your face and earning a squeal of laughter from you as you try to pinch his sides for him to stop.

"You dork!"

"You missed some suds, baby."

"You're incorrigible!"

"You love it, bravita."

With a haughty huff, you roll your eyes and slick his hair back from his forehead before pouting goofily and conceding, "Dammit, I do."

His laugh fills your chest with joy and makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders so you can kiss his cheek and nuzzle his jaw cutely.

He lets you put conditioner in his hair, but while you slather some into your own, he tries to stifle a yawn as he soaps himself up.

"Alright. My hair's gonna take a while, so you finish up and get the room ready for bed?" you suggest as you dutifully maneuver around again so he can face the cascade.

"Yes, patrona," is his crooning musing as he turns so the water can rain down on the crown of his head before washing down his shoulders and back. "Air on tonight?"

"Yeah," you retort and smile when he slicks the water back from his hair and cups your side so he can lean down and kiss your lips before shimmying by you to open the glass stall door.

"I'll lock up the house too," he remarks as he towels dry before wrapping the fluffy terrycloth around his waist and exiting through the bedroom door of the bathroom.

You're smitten as you luxuriate in the shower for a little longer, and after getting out and combing your hair, you day dream about all the fun spent at the beach with Javi. By the time you're finished blow drying your luscious hair, you are fantasizing about more little getaways with Javi. Driving up to el campo and having a picnic? Would he want to chinchorrear down to the western coast? Oh, maybe we could stay at a bed and breakfast on the beach in the south?

Whimsically thinking of all the possibilities, you hang up your towel and go into the bedroom, expecting to find Javier with a whiskey, lounging in bed while watching the evening news.

Instead, you find him passed out in bed, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach – TV remote in hand – and the other jammed behind the pillows his head was propped up against. He didn't even bother with boxers or sleep bottoms, instead looking like he sprawled out on the bed in his birthday suit and tossed the comforter over his lap before exhaustion took a hold of him. The air conditioner's ambient hum and the undulating current of cooled air clearly lulled him to sleep, and you can't help fawn at how peaceful he is in his well-earned slumber, albeit snoring with his mouth open.

You turn off the light of the bathroom before shutting the door and tiptoeing soundlessly to your side of the bed, where he'd left the lamplight on and had a nice glass of water waiting for you.

It makes your heart summersault in your chest. God, I love this man so much.

Slinking into bed with him, you turn off the lamp, gently grab the remote, and shut the TV before pulling the comforter up to cover you both.

With your head resting on his chest, you cuddle into him and melt when he shifts in his sleep so he can wrap his arm around your back and nuzzle the top of your hair. It feels like sheer bliss fills you up, and it's easy for you to relax and fall asleep, heart feeling full and settled.

You both spend Sunday in bed, with meals shared over the covers breaking up the moments of carnal delight underneath the covers.

By the time the work week begins, you're both refreshed, albeit suntanned, when you return to your hectic schedules.

Javier gets razzed by Steve for looking like he spent the weekend 'canoodling under the sun' with you, and he tells you about it while he makes dinner later that night.

Once midweek comes around, you're telling Javi about the barbecue plans for Saturday, and he passes it along to Steve the following morning while they're walking back to their office. Since work travel was over for the next few weeks, and everyone was finally recovered from the flu, you, Anita and Connie had agreed that it seemed like the perfect time to all get together and socialize around a grill in a shady backyard, with drinks and delicious dishes.

"That'll be nice. I'll get Connie to make her famous mac n'cheese, and I got my mom's succotash recipe," Steve volunteered to Javier, looking forward to unwinding over good food and drinks with Connie and other adults without chatter about work or reruns of Barney the Dinosaur for a change.

Making it to the end of the busy week, you don't even realize you've put all previous worries and stresses out of your mind completely. Instead, you're looking forward to asking Javi if he got the email invitation to the gala you'd mentioned the week prior.

After you both get home to his place, you go to his bedroom to get out of your work outfit while you eagerly tell him about the details for the ritzy shindig.

"—Oh, I don't use that thing. I have my admin or Segarra review messages and let me know."

"Ugh, really? You have a state-of-the-art laptop, Javier. Don't tell me you're gonna keep dodging using it—"

"Maybe I'd bother with it, after some tutoring from the sexy director who makes it look oh-so-easy to use—"

Exhaling dramatically to keep from laughing while you're unbuttoning your blouse, you prod, "So? Does that mean you weren't informed of the gala's details?"

Rolling up his shirt sleeves before plunking himself down on the bed, he knowingly asks, "You really wanna go to that?"

Pausing in undressing the rest of your work ensemble off, you frown. "You don't want to?"

"Oh, I do. I'm just surprised you want to go together. Making it public and all," is his smartass, albeit goading purr as he reclines on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. "We haven't told Mercer—"

Deciding two can play this instigating game, you scathe smoothly, "We haven't had a chance to, seeing as you're the one that's been busy and traveling."

Javi's lips snap shut into a pout, brows knitting together peevishly, because you are absolutely right.

"And anyway…we don't need his permission or blessing. Telling him would be a courtesy," you state charmingly as you finish stripping out of your fitted slacks, tossing them aside in the hamper with your matching blouse before going to the foot of the bed and crawling over to prowl towards him in only your black bra and panty set. His pout melts into that chiseled expression of want when you loom over him before plucking one of his shirt buttons undone as you chime, "That's if he hasn't heard any rumors already."

Humming, Javi sits up so he can tow you to lounge next to him as he pivots onto his hip.

You smirk coquettishly at him as he possessively caresses his hand along the curve of your derrière before grumbling, "The rumors from before, or are there ones about us being together now?"

"Well, definitely about us being secretly together back at the embassy. I'm actually not very sure if there are rumors about us being together currently," is your frank retort as you toy with undoing the rest of his shirt's buttons.

"I know one asshole who knows about us and doesn't care," Javi grouses in a surly tone, and at your curious hum, he huffs, "That Bozzi guy, the head of the FBI down here?"

Expecting you to tut and chastise him for being unjustifiably jealous, Javi's instead surprised when you scoff and ridicule, "Ugh, he is so insufferable! Is that why he's been laying it on so thick? Some macho bravado thing where he's trying to woo me or something?"

"…Wait. He's tried to flirt with you?" Javier growls, expression etching with aggravation.

You sigh, knowing he's going to get ornery now, but figure it was your own fault for even instigating the conversation. "Yes, but he's been overly friendly since I started working at the federal building," you tell him, seeing his nostrils flare crossly from his exhale as his temper starts to boil, so you quickly redirect, "Wait, how do you know he's onto us and doesn't care?"

Glowering, Javi admits, "That prick was overheard telling Vernon, from the ATF, that you'd caught his eye and he'd be trying to romance you. When Vernon told him you were already spoken for as far as he'd heard, Bozzi told him that there wasn't a ring on your finger so you were fair game…"

At hearing that, instead of being outraged, you burst into laughter. "What?! I'm "fair game"?! What a chauvinist," you heckle humorously and shake your head before noticing Javier's not amused. "Ay, Javi. You're really jealous over that fool?" is your sassy huff before you nudge his shoulder and bossily assure, "Quit being surly and listen! Now that I know he's flirting me up for sport and to be disrespectful of our relationship, I'll put him in his place the next time he tries to fish and banter."

Cracking a smile, Javi gruffly drawls, "It might be safer to just put a ring on your finger, guapita."

Mirthfully, you laugh – obviously not even reading much into the ring suggestion being anything more than repartee, and snicker with effervescent charm, "And miss out on the satisfaction of wiping that cocky smirk from his face?"

"I'd much rather be the one to do that, with my fist," he counters with a rugged baritone that makes a little thrill skitter up your spine, combined by his dark brewed eyes pinning you with a purposeful look. "Anyway…next time I'm in the federal building for the week, we'll go meet with Mercer."

Smiling, you fold your arms along his shoulders and lean into him as you purr, "Ok, gruñón. Sounds like a plan," before kissing him sultrily on the lips.

The next morning is spent running around doing errands before heading to your apartment after spending the whole week at Javier's. You both lug everything up from your carport spot and stop at the lobby so you can pick up any deliveries from your unit's mail slot, then head into the elevator together.

"—We don't have to spend the whole week at my place, babe. I just want to tend to things I neglected," you're telling him after the elevator doors open to your floor and you both exit with everything in hand.

"I'm fine with alternating. Plus with that gala at the end of next week, it'll be easier to go there from here," Javi is assuring as you unlock the door and enter your apartment.

You put the two grocery bags and stack of mail you were carrying onto the kitchen counter. "Yeah, it's going to be at El San Juan Hotel," you tell him as you start to put away the perishable items and leave out the ingredients for the food you'd be making to take over to the barbecue in the afternoon. Rounding the counter, you kick your shoes off next to the stool and pad barefoot over to play the messages left on your answering machine before going back to the kitchen to get the big pitcher you use to water your plants.

Javier dutifully carries the big bag of toiletries he bought at the grocery store so he didn't have to keep living out of his travel bag at your place, and lopes down the hall with it. His duffle is filled with new clothes to leave at your place in hung on his shoulder, and he's carefully carrying the dry-cleaning you picked up on the way over while balancing the shopping bag. He tosses the duffle onto the bed and shifts the bag in one arm as he's hanging the dry-cleaning up in the closet, all while listening to your answering machine play through the messages down the hall.

"—Mija, hope all is well. I should be home in a few weeks, but was hoping to check in and see how you're doing. Give me a call when you can," he hears your father's deep baritone voice echo from the living room, along with your musing sigh as you close the sliding door after watering your plants in order to go into the kitchen cabinet for the pots and pans that you'll need.

"You gonna call him back?" Javi calls out as he carries the bag into the bathroom in order to unpack the toiletries.

"When are you going to call your father, mister?" you razz right back, but he can hear the grin in your voice.

"Maybe tomorrow," Javi answers, smiling at your musing singsong of a hum as he opens the medicine cabinet and places his shaving cream, razor handle and replacement heads in, followed by his aftershave. "Probably call him in the evening, since he'll likely be coming back from Sunday dinner at my aunt's," is his remark as he continues storing his shampoo and soap on the rack in the shower stall, then goes to store his cologne and deodorant on the vanity before opening the small drawer next to the sink counter in order to place the set of clippers he'd bought to trim his moustache with, along with the second hair comb that came in the packaging with the main comb he'd just placed in the cylindrical holder with your hairbrush.

But then his attention pauses on the item that's already in the drawer, making all thoughts skid to a halt.

"That sounds nice. I might wait to call mine, though," you remark out loud after the answering machine starts playing the next message.

While it does so, and you listen to the caller hesitate before hanging up – which triggers you to remember the same thing had happened weeks ago, Javier is picking up the circular plastic case from the drawer before opening it to look at the birth control pill pack within.

His heart skips a beat and adrenaline races through his bloodstream at seeing the month supply of pills was intact, save for a week and two days' worth of pills missing; the plastic confines of which were popped empty. Javi wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he saw you reach into your purse for your contraceptives, or whenever you'd taken one of the little rounded pills with a glass of water.

Dimly, he realizes that he cannot recall a single time seeing you take the pill since he'd been on the island.

"—Hola, nena. Call me when you get this. Rafa wants our help ring shopping for Naida! Let me know what day works for you. Llámame, bye!" Zoraida's voice chipperly directs from the answering machine, which makes you smile and disregard the message before it, and for you to ignore the telemarketer message that starts to play next while you start to prepare the dishes for the barbecue.

"Oh, I forgot to ask! Do you like your potato salad with mayonnaise, or without it?" you call out as you begin to peel the potatoes while the water pot heats on the burner.

Javier is so gob smacked by the discovery of the birth control case and his fruitless attempt to find a date or label that could answer when you stopped taking the pills that it takes his brain a moment to register your question.

"Uh, without! B-But, whatever you feel like making—"

"Ellis likes his with mayonnaise, so I'll just make two; one with, and one without," you assure as you run the sink tap to rinse the potatoes.

Javi nods vacantly, still staring at the birth control, as if the little, different shades of blue pills will reveal to him the answer. She hasn't been here in over a week, so at the very least…

He gulps, realizing that didn't mean you'd forgotten to take them. After all, you'd always kept the case in your purse. The fact it was in the sink vanity's drawer meant something very different.

"Did you find enough drawer space for your stuff?" your voice calls out from the kitchen, snapping Javier out of his ruminating to hurriedly return the birth control case back to the drawer and shut it soundlessly.

You do hear the sound of his footsteps moving in the back of the hall, as if from one room to another, so you deposit the potatoes in the boiling water before striding down to check on him.

"You need me to move anything?" is your query as you round into the doorway of your bedroom and find Javier sorting through his duffle, with a few items set into stacks on the bed already.

He clears his throat before replying, "No, no I think there's plenty of room still in the drawer."

Briskly walking towards your dresser, you open the top drawer and arrange a few items more neatly so there's more storage space. "Just go ahead and use any of the empty space in these to put your folded stuff, and leave any of your shirts on the chair so I can iron them later," is your jovial instruction as you grab a hair scrunchy and quickly twist your hair up into a bun so it's out of the way while you cook.

Javi grunts in acknowledgement and hurriedly dumps the rest of the items in his duffle onto the bed so he can duck out into the closet to store the bag before you turn and notice how addled he looks. "So what time are we going over?" he asks, weighing his options on whether to confront you about the birth control pills now, or later. Or should he bring it up at all? Should he wait for you to tell him what's going on?

"I figure as soon as the food is ready and I can pack it for the drive over? So, about an hour or so?" you reply as you go to open the windows in your bedroom to have the air flow increase and cool the space. "I just want to stop at Sweet Ann Cakes to pick up a tarta de frutas on the way. Oh! That reminds me, I have to call ahead for it," is your rushed remark as you run to grab the phone from the console in the living room and do just that.

Internally swearing, Javi decides he can't bring it up. Not before the barbecue. If at all today.

So, he stews about how to eventually broach the topic while he stores his clothes in the dresser, and his mind spins up with what ifs.

Maybe she's taking a different medication…Or she just takes it at a time I'm not around?

He gulps as the next thought barrels over them all.

What if she's just afraid to tell me…that because of everything that's happened between us, she's scared to tell me she's pregnant?

Just when he feels like he's going to gnaw a raw spot into the inside of his cheek from absently worrying it between his teeth, he hears your footfalls return from the hall.

"Oh, by the way, here."

Javi turns and is surprised to see a set of keys on a hibiscus-shaped keychain ring you hold up and dangle invitingly for him to take.

"Long overdue, especially since I got your house keys without your permission, technically," is your flirty musing, expression open and expectant for his wry comment.

That warm feeling that itches behind his breastbone has him proudly taking the keys before pulling you into his arms and kissing you amorously.

You kiss him with gusto before leaning back and snickering, "Mmm, quit wooing me! I got food on the stove," and affectionately squeezing his waist before rushing to sprint back down to the kitchen with, "Keep unpacking, guapetón."

He manages to keep his anxious thoughts guarded after that, easily maintaining them while you're busying yourself in the kitchen. Then, whilst he dutifully carries the packed dishes down to the car for you while you rush to finish getting ready, he focuses on feeling proud that you trust him enough to give him the keys to your place. It helps stopping his thoughts from getting preoccupied with the what ifs stampeding through his mind while he drives you to the cute artisanal bakery so you can hurry in and pick up the cake.

"Cooking three dishes should be more than enough for your barbecue contribution, no?" he can't help ask as you unfasten your seatbelt and shoulder your purse.

"It is, but I thought it'd be nice to have something for dessert," you chime lightly before leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek. "Be right back!"

He watches you stride up to the entrance, checking out your denim short-clad ass and the way your hair sways in the wind, black tunic top with red embroidery fluttering with your movements as you go into the shop, and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

You'd been looking forward to the gathering for weeks, and when you'd come down to the car in the flirty ensemble, wearing one of your favorite tunic tops? Happy and vibrantly chatting away? His stubborn will cemented his decision, so he internally insisted that he keep it all in check.

Fuck's sake. Do not ruin this day, you jackass.

The mantra is on loop in his head once you come back out with the cake, and the entire drive over to the suburban neighborhood Ellis and Anita live at.

It's a quiet suburb within walking distance of many of the parks in the area, and about twenty minutes west of Javier and Steve's gated neighborhood, and as you direct him down the avenue to turn into the main entrance, he wonders to himself if soon you'll both need to go house hunting for a bigger abode.

"There, that's their place. You can park right behind that car. That's Anita's, and I'm sure she's not going to be driving out," you point and tell him, balancing the boxed-up cake on your lap.

Doing as you directed, Javi quickly parks, turns the car off, and helps you retrieve the food from the backseat.

Anita's already opening the door and hustling out to help before you've both finished closing the car doors.

"Hey, guys! Hold on, let us help. Ellis! Come out and help with the food. Oh, is this the arroz con pollo?! I told you not to go through the trouble, Celina—!"

"Ah, stop. It's no trouble at all!" you convivially dismiss as you kiss her hello on the cheek.

"Score! You brought that delicious cake too?!" you hear Ellis cheer affably as he comes over and grabs one of the totes housing the two versions of potato salad before clapping Javier on the shoulder in greeting. "You spoil us."

"Nah, that's all her," Javi chuckles and nods towards you before kissing Anita hello on the cheek and grabbing the boxed cake from you chivalrously so he can carry it in for you.

You can't help check him out as he chats with Ellis and walks towards the entrance, loving how those blue 'fuck me' jeans sculpt to his ass and his long legs, and how the soft yellow button-down shirt clings to his broad shoulders while the sleeves hike up his muscular biceps.

Anita catches your eye and wiggles her brows knowingly at you, so you stifle a giggle and nudge her to walk ahead of you.

Once you're all inside the air-conditioned single-story home, Javier is offered a beer and ushered out to the back patio where the grill is and the adjacent sitting area where Anita's parents are. After you and Anita store the food to stay warm on the stove and put the cake box in the fridge, you go out and join the boys as Javier is politely shaking hands with Anita's folks.

After greeting them as well, you dramatically turn towards your friends. "And where is the cutie?" you inquire and make grabby hands, as if to say, 'I want to see the baby.'

"Oh, come inside. She's down for her nap," Anita cheerily replies and gestures for you and Javi to follow her. "Steve and Connie should be here soon with the kids. Do you think Olivia will like the swing set?"

"I guess we'll find out," Javi drawls irreverently as he puts his beer down on the patio table, cups your lower back and ushers you through the sliding door while you both follow your friend towards the side of the house with the bedrooms.

As you walk by a credenza that's against the wall across from the space between the living room and kitchen, you notice the big flower arrangement you'd let Ellis take for Valentine's was set behind some framed photos among the pretty artisan crafts from Colombia that decorated the table top.

"Wow, those flowers are pretty," you point out, admiring how many of the blooms from the original bouquet were still thriving.

"Aren't they so lovely!? Ellis surprised me with that arrangement for Valentine's Day," she practically swoons, smiling brightly as you expertly feign like it was the first time that you'd seen the lavish bouquet.

Javier realizes that is the arrangement that was sent to you anonymously at the office, and it makes his hackles rise, knowing someone was vying for your affection with such an ostentatious gift. But, before he can comment, he notices one of the picture frames houses a photo of you and another man, stood side-by-side under what looks like the crossing of a church – with the altar in the background, and an adorable looking baby dressed in white cradled in your arms.

"Who's that?" Javi finds himself asking as he points at the tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed attractive man.

Anita squints knowingly over at you while she answers, "Oh, that's Ellis' little brother, Trevor. He and Celina are Delilah's godparents."

"Hmph," Javi hums tactfully before grunting at your wry elbow to his side.

"No te pongas celoso, querido."

"He's got his arm around you, though."

"For the picture, obviously!"

Laughing, Anita assures, "Don't worry, Javi. Trevor was interested, but Celina turned him down—"

"Anita!" you exclaim admonishingly and scoff when she innocently shrugs.

Javi showily puts his arm around your shoulders and puckishly mutters, "See? I'm justified."

"Hush, chavón. You're holding up the tour," is your quippy lilt as you loop your arm around his waist and squeeze with mischievous affection.

Getting to the end of the hall and opening the door quietly, you both follow Anita into the darkened bedroom towards the baby's crib. Javi smiles warmly when you lean down and brush the wispy curls framing her ear, smitten with how your eyes fill with nothing but doting sweetness for the little one. It makes heat bristle in his apex and something fledgling quiver in his chest.

Cautiously exiting the bedroom to not stir the baby, you all walk back to the patio while you and Anita gush about how cute Delilah is.

"—She's finally sleeping better, which is a relief. Ellis wants to take her to Sears and get her pictures done, but I think she's still too small for all that," Anita is telling you both as you walk out to rejoin the others.

"Give it a month or two, and then she should be big enough to pose for a photoshoot!" Ellis insists affably as he hands Javier back his beer before tending to the grill while remarking, "Got about an hour on the drumsticks, but the ribs are almost ready. I got a few steaks we can throw on later, too."

The doorbell chimes from inside the house, so Anita rushes to answer the front door, and returns a few minutes later with the Murphys in tow.

"What, you running on Puerto Rican time now?" Javier can help razz as he sets his beer aside and says hello to Connie before pulling out a patio chair for her.

"Yeah, right. Isabel spilled a whole sippy cup's worth of juice all over herself right as we were getting her in the car seat," Steve laments while the baby in his arm happily tugs on the front of his red polo's collar.

Since he had the baby's carrier in his other hand, Connie was carrying the diaper bag and a tote with all the potluck dishes she'd made, while Olivia carried her latest favorite dolly.

"Aww. Well you made in just in time," you chime as you kiss Steve hello on the cheek and smile at the baby before greeting Connie in the same fashion.

Ellis greets them in turn before Anita helps divest them of the dishes and sets up a spot for the carrier while you and Javi introduce the Murphys to Anita's parents.

"Mami, can I go on the swing?" Olivia asks, big brown eyes pleading as Connie hurriedly tries to brush her hair from her face after placing the heavy diaper bag down on the patio chair for now.

"Have you said hello to everyone first?" is her motherly retort as she pulls her periwinkle blouse's hem down and smoothens out her light wash jean shorts from rolling up her thighs.

Dutifully, Olivia goes up to Javi and waves for him to lean down so she can kiss him on the cheek. "Hi!" and then scampers over to do the same with you before going to the other adults and waving hello. "Can you push me on the swing?" she asks Javi after scampering back towards him from placing her dolly on a patio chair.

"Sure thing," he warmly retorts before gesturing for you to come along as he offers, "I can push you both. As high as you want."

Snickering, you joke, "Only if I get to push you later."

"Fine by me," Javi drawls charismatically.

"Sit and take a load off, you two," Anita insists amiably to the Murphys, setting out the appetizers and refreshments for everyone to enjoy.

"I wish I had a swing set at home."

"I thought you liked going to the park?"

"I do, but I wish I had a swing set and a playhouse. Some of my friends at school have them in their backyard. Do you have a swing where you live, Celina?"

"I don't, so this is fun," you reply to the little girl as you both swing along while Javi pushes you both gently, at the same time.

While you three are at the swing set, you don't realize Connie has pulled Steve's camera out from the diaper bag and silently cajoled him to switch giving her Isabel for it so he can snap a few pictures of you three having fun.

Just as Anita and Ellis are answering questions about where they got the backyard set, the sudden sound of staticky crying filters over from the baby monitor they'd set out on one of the outdoor accent tables by the sliding door. Anita goes inside to check on the baby while Ellis keeps the conversation going.

"—Lucked out today. Just sunny and breezy. Perfect grillin' weather," is his musing, sipping from his beer before asking, "Oh, does Olivia like hot dogs? I have some I can throw on the grill."

"You hungry, Olivia?" Steve shouts over at the precocious girl who is swinging a little higher than he expected. "Take it easy, Jav!"

"What? She asked to go higher," Javier retorts while Olivia lets out a conspiratorial giggle.

"Javi, más suave," you amusedly tut at him, so he chivalrously guides Olivia's swing to slow its momentum a bit, before naughtily pushing you higher. "Javier!"

He laughs and quickly takes hold of your seat to help slow the momentum for you, and you have to try to look rueful instead of exhilarated when you turn and glower at him.

"Que malo eres," you snipe humorously under your breath as you leave the swing and pinch his arm lightly.

Olivia parrots, "Javi es malo."

Grinning, you triumphantly watch Javier pout as he litigates to the little girl, "No soy malo de verdad."

"Um, what's that mean?" she pipes as she hops down from the swing seat.

"He's just saying he's not really bad," you answer for him and lean up to kiss him on the cheek. "But he was being a silly brat."

"Hmph," he grumbles wordlessly and pulls a mock frown, which only makes Olivia laugh. "Alright, let's go have snacks."

The little girl marches over to the patio table to do just that, so you flirtatiously wink at Javi and hold your hand out for him. Smirking, he takes it, and you tow him down to join everyone around the table.

Anita emerges from the house with Delilah held in the crook of her arm while she swishes the bottle of baby formula. "Amá, can you take her for me? I want to make drinks for the girls," she asks of her mother.

"Let her madrina have some face time," you volunteer and go over so Anita can hand you the baby and bottle before you sit in the vacant chair adjacent Connie.

"I'll help you with the drinks," Anita's mother offers while she gestures for Javier to sit in her seat. "Do you want anything stronger than beer, you two?" she asks of him and Steve.

"I'm fine with a beer, thank you," Steve assures, and Javi seconds with a nod before reclaiming his own and drinking from it.

"Ellis, I'll grab the hot dogs from the fridge. You watch the grill," Anita's father remarks as he follows them into the house.

While Olivia enjoys the little cheese and crackers from the snack dish, the adults around her chatter conversationally.

As everyone talks about local events, Javi watches you from across the table while you listen and simultaneously feed Delilah her bottle.

Seeing you hold such a small baby, glancing down at her every so, and smiling? It makes something primal and nurturing bloom in his chest. The back of his neck gets hot when he glances over and realizes Steve's caught him staring at you, so he sits up straighter and drinks a long pull from his beer.

By the time the hot dogs are on the grill and the tray of frozen drinks has come out to the table, you're already burping the baby, gently patting her back while cradling her to your shoulder.

"Oop, 'scuse you," you mumble sweetly to the baby when she lets out a hiccup of a burp and yawns against your shoulder. When Anita sits next to you and slides over the frozen cocktail to you, you reluctantly hand Delilah back. "Dito, she's already sleepy."

"Yeah, but trust me – it won't last for long," Anita sighs as she rocks the baby in her arms. "I made you a daiquiri, but let me know if you'd prefer a margarita—"

"Ah, no way! No tequila drinks for me," you exclaim and shake your head before sipping from the fruity daiquiri.

"Are you allergic to tequila?" Connie asks before thanking Ellis for the plate of hotdogs she begins to dutifully cut into smaller morsels for Olivia.

"No, I don't think so, but the last time I had it, I got so sick, I couldn't get out of bed for almost two days," you explain, grimacing at the mere recall. "I swore to never have tequila again after that."

Cataloguing that in his personal record of knowledge about your likes and dislikes, Javier remarks coolly to the group, "She's a Cuba Libre gal, anyway."

"Hah, remember when the fellas at Mil Group used to call you Miss Cuba Libre?" Ellis chuckles as he rotates some of the drumsticks.

"Actually, that was you and Samson who came up with that," you counter aloofly before realizing you've mentioned the former field operations analyst in Javier's presence.

"What's a Cuba Libre?" Olivia pipes up before eating a piece of hotdog she's just dipped in ketchup.

"It's a tropical drink only for grown-ups," Javier answers as he steals a piece of hotdog from her plate, popping it in his mouth and chewing with gusto while he squints goofily at her.

You internally breathe a sigh of relief at Javi's unruffled demeanor.

Since there aren't enough seats around the patio table, you get up and offer yours to Ellis once the ribs are ready and he's serving them.

"I'm going to pace myself for the barbecue chicken," you tell him as you go sit on the swing.

Javier gets up from his seat, remarking, "And I'm leaving room for the steak," as he goes over to sit on the swing next to you, eyeing you charmingly as he croons, "Still up for pushing me?"

Snickering, you go to stand behind him, and with all your might, you push him by the center of his back to get the momentum forward to swing.

The swing set protests with squeaks the more Javi gains speed, and you can't help deride, "Uh oh, I think you exceed the size limit for this, chulito."

As he swings backwards, he deliberately leans back so he can taunt in a gravelly pitch, "Wouldn't be the first time, preciosa."

You laugh in that scandalized, yet tickled way he loves before swatting his shoulder and hissing conspiratorially, "No seas fresco."

Digging his boot heels into the soft grass, he stops swinging and sits on the seat before guiding you to move around in order to swoop you into sitting across his lap.

Holding you to him, he kisses your cheek, and whispers in your ear, "I'm already doing a lot to control myself, guapita. But you're making it very hard."

The apples of your cheeks heat up at the double entendre, especially when all your friends are not even ten feet away.

You turn your head and angelically smile before pecking him chastely on the lips. "Behave, or else you're getting punished when we get home," is your murmured whisper, seductive tone not matching your serene smile.

You stand and strut back to the table, leaving Javier to pine for you before going to join Ellis and Steve by the beer cooler.

Once the rib appetizer has been partaken in, Ellis gets back to the grill to work on the next round of meat while you go with Connie inside to help retrieve all the side dishes.

Taking the baby so Anita can help hand out plates and cutlery, Ellis holds her in the crook of his arm while Steve and Javi go to the cooler and crack open another round of beers for the men.

The breeze in the shady backyard has dissipated by the time Ellis is planning on throwing on the seasoned cuts of steak to the grill, and just as he's about to ask Anita to take the baby, she's come out with them on a glass bake dish and sets it on the grill's side table.

"Ugh, the bugs are coming out now. Come, let's eat at the table inside," Anita directs, so you all collect the plates and platters to do just that.

"Ah, crap. I forgot to bring back out the barbecue and steak sauce," Ellis grumbles, quickly turning to see everyone but he and Javier have moseyed into the house already. So, without batting an eye, he pivots towards the other man and practically bestows the docile baby at a surprised Javier, who clumsily takes her in a broad-armed cradle as Ellis rushes out, "Here, hold her for a sec while I run in and whip the sauce up for the drumsticks. I'll be right back!"

At being in an unfamiliar hold, Delilah squirms and looks up at Javier, almost questioningly.

"It's ok. I got you," he tells her in a soft, cooing tone to quiet her fussing while he carefully rocks her.

Inside the house, you're just finishing pointing out to everyone which of the casserole dishes is the potato salad with mayonnaise when you hear Steve chuckle as he steps back out through the sliding door, and jokes, "She's looking grumpy there, Jav. Maybe don't hold her like a bomb that's about to go off."

You look in direction of the patio and see Javier holding Delilah while shooting a laconic look at Steve before he adjusts the way his arms are cradled to better hold the baby, nestling her close to his chest.

The sight of him standing broad-shouldered and tall, with the gentle smile on his face as he looks down at the baby when she grabs a little fistful of his yellow shirt? Watching as the nervous tension melts from his posture as he rocks the baby and chats with Steve? It makes a fluttering ache fizzle up in your core before your heart winces at the thought you've tried to bury deep.

He'd make a wonderful father. But you won't be able to do that for him.

The sting of tears threatens to crest up in you, but you take a cleansing breath and distract yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter while everyone else is busy serving food and settling to sit at the table, chatting away.

Meanwhile, Javier is keeping his attention on the little baby while Steve peppers him with questions.

"—So you're definitely going to that gala together?"

"That's the plan."

"But you haven't disclosed it to Mercer yet."

"Nope."

"Do you plan on doing that before the party?"

"I was planning to the next time it's my turn to be at the building."

"Hm. You ever gonna get around to putting a ring on her finger?"

"…You're lucky I'm holding this baby, and can't swear at you right now."

"I know. That's why I brought it up."

Sighing, Javi glances at his buddy. "I've been thinking about it. But I told you – I've got no clue what to get her. And I feel like I gotta do a few things first before I can make the move," is his honest retort.

"Like what?" Steve asks before drinking his beer.

"Get things on solid ground between us. There's still a lot of making up I gotta do after Colombia…" is his musing, pausing before adding, "I also want to ask permission."

"…From who?" Steve grunts before asking, "Her dad?"

"Yeah. Before, when they weren't on speaking terms still, I had wanted to ask her grandmother for her blessing…but I didn't get a chance to. Now, that they've mended their relationship, I feel like I should go to him and ask," he explains, and at Steve's quirked brows, he grumbles, "It sounded like it was important, within the family. I don't want to cause friction between them, and my track record isn't great—"

"Getting the presumptive father-in-law to like you, you mean?" Steve rasps in a knowing drawl, hand shoved into his pocked while he swigs his beer with the other one.

Delilah yawns and wriggles in his arms, so Javi quips, "Even she's bored of you, Captain Obvious."

Ellis returns with his secret barbecue sauce then, so they drop the topic and strike up convo with the man as he works on the grill.

When the boys come back into the house with the tray piled high with meat a little while later, they find everyone merrily chatting while Isabel sleeps in her carrier and Olivia is wrapped in her coloring book, sat on the stool at the counter.

Anita takes Delilah from Javier and goes to check her diaper before putting her down for a nap while the buffet-style dinner commences. By the time she comes back, she sets the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and joins everyone in food and banter.

Eventually, with the kids preoccupied, the adults talk about current world events, and during coffee and dessert, the conversation turns to 'the trial of the century,' of which you hadn't been paying much attention to.

"—Whole new meaning to 'the Juice is loose,' I say. The guy is totally guilty," Ellis is wisecracking, to Anita's wry chagrin.

"Ay, you and that trial," is her chastising huff before she takes a bite of the delicious cake you brought over. "You all haven't been watching it, right?"

"Only the nightly news recaps, after we put the kids to bed," Connie replies as she sips her coffee.

"It seems like a pretty open and shut case," Steve remarks conversationally as he contemplates having another slice of the scrumptious cake.

"Do you think so?" Anita's father asks Javi, glancing at you too as he remarks, "We've heard a lot of people believe otherwise."

"Honestly, I don't know enough about it. When we get home, we're usually so preoccupied with other things that we usually only have enough energy left to watch local news together," is Javi's loaded, smug comment, to which you scoff and swat his thigh haughtily while he cockily stays reclined in his seat, with his arm along the back of your chair.

Everyone exchanges chuckles before changing the conversation to other topics.

By the end of the early evening, you're all packing up leftovers to take home before exchanging praise over the food shared, and thanking the Roses for hosting the barbecue.

"—Wanna go shopping this week? I don't have a dress I can fit in for the gala," Anita asks you and Connie as the men stow things in the cars.

"Sure. I have a dress in mind for it already, but I was thinking of getting a different pair of shoes for it," you tell them, and after some more chit chat on the way to the front yard, you all make shopping plans for after work later in the week.

Saying goodbye to everyone, you and Javier drive home to your place, warmly chatting about how nice the gathering was, and how you should all make future plans to hang out like that again.

By the time you get to your condo, you and Javi are getting a second wind, so when you walk in, you're tossing your purse on the counter and kicking your strappy leather sandals off, padding barefoot to the sideboard as you chime, "—Ah, it's still early. Want to have drinks on the balcony? It's so nice out."

"Sure," he retorts as he locks the door and slides the keys onto the bartop counter while going to store the leftovers into the fridge. As he does so, he watches you retrieve a bottle of his favorite whiskey and your preferred rum, placing them on the glass table so you can push the vertical blinds aside to open the sliding balcony door and let the cool evening breeze in. With a wry smirk, he irreverently asks, "Want me to make yours, Miss Cuba Libre?"

Biting your bottom lip and coquettishly looking back at him, you drawl coyly, "I was worried that might've annoyed you. I didn't mean to—"

Frowning, Javier walks over and cups his hands at your hips. "Hey, it didn't bother me. I was only teasing, querida," is his earnest insistence. The genuine concern in his eyes makes you pout, so he kisses your lips before taunting, "And I remember a time you swore you didn't like apodos."

Scoffing girlishly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him back before grousing, "Yeah, well, you had your own nickname, Mister Guapo Descarado."

Chuckling ruggedly, he squeezes you affectionately before grabbing the bottles of liquor to go make your drinks in the kitchen. As he grabs two glasses from the cupboard, he glances over at you while asking unabashedly, "Who came up with that one?"

Smiling, you slide the screen door open and lean against the frame as you answer, "That was what Marisol and the girls called you. And based on all the gossip I'd heard? It seemed quite fitting."

"Great," he laconically drawls as he walks over with your drinks. "I swear. Half of the rumors were bullshit," is his glib aside, handing you the glass and fighting to keep a straight face, especially when you give him that discerning stare. "They were!"

"Ah-hah," you deadpan waggishly before sipping your drink and taking his hand to lead him out to the balcony so you can both enjoy the breeze and the tropical twilight sky over the bright Condado skyline across the laguna.

It felt nice, looking out at the view, with the whiskey warming his bloodstream, and you lovingly embraced against his side. So much so, that when the intrusive thoughts from earlier stumble up into the forefront of his mind – Shit, she wouldn't have a drink if she knew she was pregnant! – Javier almost vehemently dismisses them.

But then, the vision of you, holding the baby – of how sweet and doting you were with her nestled in your arms – digs loose that anxious pang from earlier.

"Celina…" he begins, and when you turn to stare with open attention up at him, he wavers. "I—I uh…"

Blinking curiously, you set your drink aside on the small, circular, mosaic-tiled patio table tucked in the corner of the balcony where you're standing so you can place your hands reassuringly at his chest as you ask, "What? What's the matter?"

Fuck. Real smooth. Javi grouses at himself before exhaling noisily. Deciding he has to just come out with it, he downs his glass of whiskey before setting aside on the table. Steeling himself, he breathes out through his nose before resting his hands at your waist in order to ground himself.

"Earlier today, while I was putting my stuff away, I went to put something in your vanity drawer," he tells you, and at your expression shuttering in from the mention of the drawer, he continues, "I saw the birth control case. And I looked inside…"

Your heart drops.

Instantly, your eyes begin to well with tears, and Javi is startled by your reaction, so he quickly comforts, "Mi amor, don't get upset. I didn't mean to snoop, but I couldn't help looking. It's alright. We've talked about it, remember? We'll figure it out together—"

Realizing what he's saying – that he thinks the pills were discarded in the drawer because you're secretly pregnant? It hits you hard.

You bite your lip to stop it from quivering before forcing the tears back down and out from the knot in your throat.

"Javier…it's not like that. I—I have been having problems. Since before we got back together. I…I haven't been menstruating, and for the last few months, I've been doing blood work and check-ups. The doctor told me to get off the pill, to see if that was the cause—if being on it had just prolonged a hormonal imbalance or something, but…I haven't been ovulating. It's still too early… it could be a lingering case of amenorrhea, b-but, there's a possibility that I could be…that I could be infertile."

You brace for his reaction, terrified and ashamed. So much so, you can't even hold his gaze when you say the last part.

But then, Javi cups your cheek and tips your face back up to him.

His dark brown eyes are resolute and filled with composure, and his expression chisels into that semblance that so rarely comes over his countenance, save when you're both in bed, in post-coital repose.

"Querida, I'm so sorry you've been dealing with this alone. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" When you hesitate, and your eyes fill up with tears again, he realizes why. "You thought it would change how I feel?"

The tears overflow past your lashes, unbidden, and you nod before stifling a sob into the back of your hand.

"Celina," he husks and hugs you, overcome by your reaction, and holds you tight, nuzzling the top of your hair and trying to regain his composure. As soon as he does, he finds the steady voice he needs to declare, "Nothing will ever make me change the way I feel about you. I love you. I just want us to be together, whatever way possible. Being with you, and making you happy is everything I care about. All we need is each other. To love each other, nothing else."

You sob and melt into his embrace at his words, feeling like you've been delivered by his unwavering love and grace.

"I love you with all my heart, Javi. I j-just want to m-make you happy—to make a life with you. To g-give you love and a life you want, and t-that matters—" you stammer through tears, and Javi derails your cracking admittance by tipping your face up to him.

"I have it. Right here and now. Whatever happens, we have each other. All that matters to me, is what we have," he passionately conveys, voice going hoarse as he proclaims, "I love you. Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida. And all I want is to be with you."

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks, his expression open and genuine as you breathlessly smile before hugging him with palpable yearning.

Feeling you tremble, Javi effortlessly picks you up and carries you into the apartment and down the hall to your bedroom.

Wanting to comfort you, he intended to just lay you down and cuddle close, but you're raw with emotion, and longingly kiss him, mewling softly into his mouth. When he claims yours rapaciously while stripping your clothes off, piece by piece, your hands hurriedly unbutton his shirt, tug at his belt buckle, and unfasten his jeans while he kicks his boots off and clambers with you onto the bed.

His warm skin and spicy scent have your senses buzzing, making you needy and wet before he's even bared you completely and settled between your welcoming thighs.

Javier shudders as your hands cling to his back while your teeth graze down his shoulder, making lust and savage desire burn through him and throb beseechingly to be inside you.

With how emotionally raw and hyper-aroused you are, the feeling of his cock notching at your dimpled entrance makes you quiver and whimper, nipples taut and tingling as he suckles hard on one and then the other. His mouth is hot and possessive as he rakes it up to trail dizzying desire through you as it charts possessively up your neck while his cock punches a deep thrust into your molten sheath before stroking all the way out and slamming back in to the hilt.

Your cry of pleasure is devoured by his mouth claiming yours, and the more he fucks into you, the more ravenous and besotted his pace becomes, until it steals his breath and he has to growl your name against your neck.

"Celina—!"

Spun up by the onslaught of sensations and feelings, you cling to him and beg, "Please, Javi. P-Please!"

The tears in your wavering whimper snap him back into control, and he slows his rapaciousness, focusing on taking you apart with the fill of his cock in your fluttering cunt while caressing your flushed features and kissing the tears away.

Voice hoarse with emotion, Javi croons softly, "I got you. Just you and me. Let go, cariño. You don't have to hold onto it. Let me have it. Nothing else matters. It's just you and me. I love you—"

That's when you do, letting go of all the angst, fear, shame, and heartache of possibly losing him. Of losing a life you didn't know you wanted for him – that you were not be able to give to him. To mourn the possibility of a life you'd never known you wanted for yourself.

When you have no more tears, he rests his forehead to yours and lets you get your bearings, focusing on your calming breath and easing trembling.

"Javi."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He opens his eyes and stares deeply into your glossy ones, and sees the palpable feeling you just professed shining in them.

You make love to each other, carnally honed into everything you can only say to each other physically.

The throes of pleasure speak volumes for how you feel, and when you both reach bliss together, you're unable to do anything else but curl into each other and kiss before Javi protectively wraps you up in his arms.

His heart beats strong with yours, and everything in him is at peace, knowing there's nothing else that can hurt you. That you love him enough to want to protect him from even the perceived thought that you couldn't give him a life that neither of you even knew you'd wanted until the prospect showed itself looking up at you both, with sweet innocence, earlier that day.

Knowing that you're enough – that Javi wants a life with you, regardless of any obstacles, was a salve to your raw psyche after harboring the fear for so long.

It's just us. Our love is all that matters.

As you both drift to sleep, only serenity and love fill the atmosphere for you, and the tethering feeling that settles between you helps keep hope grounded in your hearts for all that there is still to come.

The turmoil that awaits you both is nothing either of you see coming, however.

  ________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Colmadito = Grocery shop; similar to a bodega; community foodstuff store

Coquí = Puerto Rican tree frogs; they croak 'coquí', hence their name

Urbanizacíon = Urbanization; housing development

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

No te he dado de alta = I haven't discharged you

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Mi amor = My love

Mandona = Bossy lady

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Galán = Handsome gent

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Autopista = Freeway; highway

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Siempre a la órden = Always at your service

Puto = Fucking; male whore; slut

Congrí = Cuban dish made of black beans and rice with bacon and fragrant spices

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Buen provecho = Bon apetit

Arroz con pollo = Rice with chicken

Carne con papas = Meat with potatoes

Pernil = Roast pork shoulder

Pinche asesinos = Fucking murderers/killers

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Come, gatito = Eat, kitty

Flan de queso = Cheese flan; Latin American dessert

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Te quiero, mi amor = I love you, my love

Te amo con todo mi corazón = I love you with all my heart

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Frituras = Fritters; tropical turnovers

Playas = Beaches

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Medalla = Popular beer found in Puerto Rico

Canela = Cinnamon

Dámelo, mi amor = Give it to me, my love

Pórtate bien = Behave

Patrona = Madam; boss lady; mistress

El campo = The countryside

Chinchorrear = Slang for going bar-hopping; a chinchorro is a kiosk or dive bar you go to have a few drinks before moving on to the next establishment

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Nena = Girl

Llámame = Call me

Tarta de frutas = A vanilla cheesecake-like cake covered in tropical fruit slices

Más suave = Gentler; Softer

Que malo eres = You're so bad; You're so mean

Javi es malo = Javi is bad

No soy malo de verdad = I'm not bad for real

Amá = Medellín way of referring to 'Ma' or 'Mamá'

Madrina = Godmother

Dito = Short for 'bendito', which is a phrase conveying hopeful lamentation

No seas fresco = Don't be fresh

Apodos = Nicknames

Guapo Descarado = Handsome Cad

Laguna = Lagoon

Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida = I only want you for the rest of my life

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 31

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 8.5k

A/N: I got a bit carried away. HEHEHEHE.

Andrea's little look

When the sun comes in you aren’t regretful. But you aren’t happy. 

Your head is pounding and there’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t get rid of and it isn’t from the remnants of alcohol. Your legs are intertwined and his palm is laid flat on your stomach. There’s a part of you expecting to wake up and rub yourself on him, continue what you left off last night. But you have the urge to cry. 

“I don’t know what came over me last night.” He speaks first, raspy from sleep or maybe lack thereof. “We shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have.” 

“it wasn’t just you. I wanted it to happen.”

 You remove his palm from your belly and raise it, fingers around his wrist you intertwine your other hand with his. It was calloused and littered with tiny abrasions. Much more man. “But I think I know it wasn’t right. I don’t feel really good.” Stroking your thumb over the knuckle of his pointer finger. Skin had been split there many times, you feel it. 

His chest stutters below your cheek. “I’m sorry.” His voice is so broken you drop his hand and shoot straight up. His eyes are darkened and there’s tears out of the corner of his eyes. One falling too quickly for him to hide it. Your own chin quivers and you sit criss crossed beside him, taking the pad of your thumbs to wipe the tears that continue to fall. You whisper his name, leaning close to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed you away…I was sick from feeling so guilty—I couldn’t focus the first few months—until I started therapy—Andrea..” His voice rips and his eyes are swarmed with tears. You weren’t— you couldn’t be immune to his tears. You weren’t angry, you never could be. Not when you know how he was taken advantage of. 

“Javi…” You wipe his cheeks. It’s all you could say.

“Tell me— tell me how it made you feel.”

“I was mostly feeling for you—because of what she did-“ You lie and he shakes his head.

“Just tell me.” He sits up and you shuffle to give me space. “Tell me so I can stop driving myself crazy. So that when you leave I’ll be fine.” 

The tables turned and you hate it. 

You recall being in this position, wanting every answer from him so that you aren’t left to spiral when he leaves. There’s so much to tell him, he looks so desperate. So tortured by his own circumstance. You swallow, furrowing your brows. Wondering how to start. How to lay all of it out on the table. You peek at the window, the sun creeping in, it's early. Early enough for the house to still be silent. Your hair is mussed, you feel his wet eyes burning a hole through you. 

“I hated you. For those two weeks. My cheeks would get red from anger when I thought about how careless you could be… plan a future with me after everything we went through– after everything I went through. It drove me crazy that you couldn’t fucking keep track of who you fucked and when or whatever. I was already feeling insecure when she came into the bathroom at Frankie’s wedding, I knew something was wrong. Honestly, I don't even remember the night when you told me. All I recall is the moment you told me, the pain I felt in my chest. I don't know—I realized over the years  that I had the mental power to completely block out what hurts me the most. Like I don't think I can make out my fathers face and I can't remember that night. It started my journey to try to forget you.” You know every word is hurting him but maybe he could get a taste of what you felt. Your thinking isn't spiteful, you just want him to understand. He asked for this. “Lorraine was lying, I know. But you took responsibility so quickly, I know you had no idea but the idea that it could have been true felt like a heartbreak in itself. You laughed last night… when I told you how hurt I was–crying to songs–”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Javier, it's okay. You just have to know that I spent those two weeks picturing you rubbing her belly, and laying in bed with her, and whispering to her to not wake your father up. And at the wedding she said that you used to tell her I was nothing to you. I couldn't picture you saying it but after the wedding I could see it clearly. I knew it was really over when I saw you holding her at 7/11. I walked away without saying anything but I was really hoping you’d come after me.”

You can't see him, he’s sat up now, shifted behind you but his downcast gaze is felt. You can feel him thinking behind you, you're taking him step by step along your brain. “I decided I was going to move away. I buried myself in phone calls and realtors and car dealerships, packed everything or whatever. I didn’t speak to anyone really, just wanted to disappear. But I wasn’t going to miss your wedding.”

“Why?” He isn’t crying anymore, the fog in your brain clears. Glancing over your shoulder you connect with his own blood shot stare. 

“I had to see it so I can just move on. You know… then we all found out.” He asked not to see you. “I was so heartbroken for you. All the pain I felt from the rejection from my father, from when you left for Houston, from when you told me she was pregnant– none of it compared to the pain I felt for you when I found out it was all a lie. I just wanted to see you.” Fuck, your voice finally gives. You could spell it out for him like you did the rest, you could tell him that his request freed you while simultaneously ripping you in half. You know it led you to accomplish all the things you wanted, you left your doomed home for christ's sake. But I wanted you to do it with me. We could have left together. You think your body's decision to sob and fold over into your hands tells him the rest of what he needs to know. 

“Andrea…” He whispers, his hands encircling your shoulders. You shake him off. 

You catch a breath and wipe your tears with your palms. Probably dragging some mascara along the way. “It isn’t smart for us to be doing this. I promised myself I wouldn't. I should go.” Your body begins before you can even form a thought. Getting off his bed, still in tears you search for your panties. The bed springs with him coming to his feet and he’s so much larger than you, you begin to miss fifteen minutes ago when you were nothing but someone encased by his warmth. You snatch the small thing and nearly fall over from blurry eyed vision while attempting to put them on. Like the gentlemen he was and fuck him, Javier holds your arm steady. “Thanks.” You murmur before padding away from him. 

“Don’t leave… you don’t have to stay here like we said but please…” He rasps, “Please dont leave yet.” He lets go of your wrist. You were a victim to his begging eyes, and frankly you loved the chase. No matter how many times it hurts you. It’s too easy for him to convince you but he heard you. You had to be fair, you had to listen to him. 

Without a word you pull the chair of his desk with a screeching sound. He fucked you there once or twice. You missed when memories still felt sweet. You settle down on the chair, elbows on the desk you inhale and exhale steadily. In your peripheral Javier settles at the corner of the bed. 

“I won’t keep you here. I didn’t scheme to have you back in my bed, to confuse you—frankly I’m fucking confused. I’m confused on what I feel. I’ve spent years working out how to approach you, my therapist brought me through it. I knew once I saw you I had to tell you everything, I had to apologize and let you make the decision whether you wanted me in your life or not.“ It comes out all in one breath, no longer a whisper or a rasp. “And I’m so fucking sorry but the second I saw you all of that went out the window and I shouldn’t have done this.” 

“I offered to sleep in bed with you.” You correct, he was apologetic about the wrong things. 

“I was emotionally manipulated by Lorraine. I don’t care if it makes me sound weak, I’ve worked it out with my therapist. I already felt like I needed to push away anyone I loved, I guess I’m like my mother in that way. It’s not an excuse but through all the shit I went through in Colombia at the very least I can say I left that place with a better understanding of myself. I made too many decisions for you—for us. I thought I was protecting you—it’s what I feel like I’m actually good at. And I want to tell you that I have changed, that you have to stay so we can make it work. I want to—” He’s speaking with his hands and suddenly they drop to his lap. “But I can’t keep making decisions for you. It didn’t work before, it’s unhealthy. So please Andrea… just—. What do you want?”

Your blood runs dry. Sobered in an instant from your state at the hardwood, your brows furrow. “What?” 

“I will spend every day of my life apologizing to you if that’s what you need. I’ll never speak to you again if that’s what you want. I’ll move to New York and you know I hate New Yorkers. I’ll move on. I’ll leave town without a trace. I’ll do whatever you want.” It’s desperate, your heart is beating against your rib cage so hard you fear it’ll break the bones. “What do you want Andrea?”

You feel like you’ve been here before, your future spanning across your palm. Choice is a funny thing, especially when the possibilities are endless. Yet for someone like you, choice feels constrictive-suffocating—panic inducing. It feels like your heart is going to break through skin and bone. What a mess your mind is, what beauty.

Everything speeds and flashes those few seconds you’re absorbing the simple question of what do you want? 

You see Javier pinching the skin of your back inspecting the freckles there when you were twelve, Javier lifting you up to give you a better view, Javier kissing you for the first time, Javier coming home, Javier telling you that he loves you. 

He always made the choice to touch you, to kiss you, he said he loved you first. In this Chess board he played white and made the first move. You accept each move because it’s Javi and he has a read on just exactly what you want. 

You lift your chin.

“I want to be given time. I want to see that you’ve worked on yourself. I want to learn you again. I want you to learn me. We can see each other as friends while I’m here. I won’t be staying the night with you again, there’s too much—“

“Sexual tension.” He finishes and you roll your eyes hard, it burns from its previous use (sobbing).

“To put it lightly. “ You sigh, wiping the last wet spot on your cheek. Feeling confident when in control. “I want us…” Your brows knit, overtaken by the reality that he will quite literally do anything you say. “To go to dinner.” His brows raise. “As exes—and friends. I want to know everything, I want you to tell me there.”

He shrugs, “I can tell you now.”

“No. I need a neutral environment.” He nods in agreement, the two of you tried to be vulnerable last night and that ended with your pussy on his face. “I want you to speak to Lorraine.” 

You watch his body language shift, he was sitting almost boyish and relieved that you had taken control of the situation but this request—it almost looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Cheeks paling. “Only if you feel you’re ready to. I will too, separately or together—whichever you prefer. Even if I decide to stay exes, this could be a step to fixing our friendship because we lost that too.” You bring one knee up on the chair and rest your cheek on it. Afraid to say this next part because it might discredit all these boundaries your setting in place. Attempting to be progressive and modern and healthy. Maybe it was the school teacher in you. You lick your lips a bit anxious to speak again. 

Javier’s eyes narrow, he leans forward with his arm crossed. “Is that all?”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever hookers you paid when you were away. It’s disgusting and frankly disrespectful to even bring up to me.” Yeah, maybe you were being a little hypocritical and rash. But fuck it, if he said he’d do anything you’d ask. 

“Correct if I’m wrong but-“

“Javi, I don’t give a fuck. You said anything.” Your jealous bone was a lethal one. It was like an open wound you loved to toy at. 

Sadistically, you pressed him for answers and you were even more furious internally that he actually answered them as if it were nothing. You’re sure when you were tipsy and warm and horny, it didn’t bother you. But you swear your eye twitched the moment you woke and replayed that conversation in your head. Win stupid prizes you suppose, tough shit. 

“Alright.” He rasps with a curt nod. His eyes full of promise, nervous and prepared to ace the exam you laid out for him. Ms. Diaz style. 

With the morning birds chirping at his window, collar bone exposed from his shirt ruffled from your hold on him the entire night. Javier was here, in front of you, twenty six years of age. 3 years in the police force. Six years in the DEA. Each time you see him he looks older than the day before but still you stare and see just Javi. The unchanging eyes that have done nothing but adore you your entire life. Lips that called you beautiful when no one had, called you smart. Plush lips that kissed you. Hands that pushed you in rivers and pulled you back out. Fingernails that traced words into your sleeping back. The two of you, changing in time mentally-physically and still somehow possessing a love so strong it goes unchanged. 

Your decision was made. You’re not sure he’s deserving of your never ending generosity. You’ll give it to him anyway. 

He just needs a bit of fear in his heart. 

You decide to sneak out before Chucho could wake. You tell Javi that you’ll call him later, that you need time alone. Or maybe away is what you meant. He looked pained and truthfully, you felt just the same. How easy it would have been to drop your pride and climb back into bed. Be safe, know deep in your heart that he would never hurt you, not again. You believe the words he says, you just want to make sure he believes it. 

You realize, very rudely, that you aren’t sixteen anymore and this isn’t a summer at the lake. The Christmas morning air was chilly and you were ready to spend the day in your hotel room wondering if this was all a big mistake. 

Driving out of the rolling fields and into town, you're forced to take a back road to your hotel because of Laredo’s Light and Lord Christmas Fair. It was your favorite part of Christmas until age thirteen when the fair went from running around with your friends to a day to hang with your boyfriends. It wasn’t like you had many friends outside your brother but the Christmas fair was always an opportunity to just have fun with girls your age. Of course until everyone got boyfriends. You hated on it but you secretly wanted to also walk around cozied up with someone you loved, decorate some cookies and kiss with sugar laced lips. 

It doesn’t seem like this Christmas will cut it either. You fish the gold little key from your cup holder and shuffle back out of your car and into your hotel room. Phone rattling on the desk. You frown, thoroughly confused and slightly creeped out by the telephone seemingly going off while you weren’t there. Your hotel rooms a mess from your nerves of seeing your family. Hah, imagine what the place would look like if you were warned about Javi. You don't think too hard and pick up the phone before you can set your purse down. 

“Hello?”

“I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Your heart swells and your cheeks heat. You should have known giving him your hotel room extension was a bad idea. He was always like this, a flirt on the phone because you couldn't be there to smack his hand. You shut your eyes and place your hands on your hips like a mom ready to scold. “How many times have you called?”

“Twice, will you come back. It felt like we argued.” He rasps and you consider it for just a moment. 

“We didn’t argue.” You say it softly and you can’t understand why. You settle into the desk and begin undressing to just sleep the day away. 

He clears his throat, “I guess I’m not used to you being around and willingly deciding to leave my room. It feels like you're punishing me.”

“That’s not what this is. I don’t blame you for anything.” 

“I know.” You hear the unspoken, so why can’t we just be together. You know it’s what he’s thinking because when you’re around each other logic runs out the door and all you can conjure up is acting on the intense feeling of love you have for each other. You’ve got to learn to harness it, because look where it got you your whole lives. 

“If it makes a difference, I don't want to be doing this.”

“So don’t” It’s quick and biting and his voice is clear as day. 

“I just don’t want us to make a crazy decision before working things out. I don’t want…” Your voice dies a bit, it's much easier to say it how it is without seeing his face. “I don’t want us not to work again because we rushed into things and chose not to acknowledge everything between us. I can’t-I can’t- I don’t have it in me.” 

I’m tired, I miss you so badly but you were hurt more than me and I want you to recognize it. One day you’ll figure that all I want is for you to be okay. 

“Okay.” It’s soft and so him. It’s the tone he has when you're dozing off against his chest, when his palm cradles the back of your head. When he speaks to you like there’s nothing that could ever do you harm. “I’ll stick to the plan. You tell me when to call Lorraine, I’ll do it. Tell me when you want to have dinner. I’ve done harder things in my life.” He chuckles beyond the phone and you follow suit. Missing him and damning your attempt at self control. Unsure what to say next you look around the room because you’re afraid of the silence that comes once you hang up. Soon to be a stark realization that now that you’ve had him again you’ll need him around. 

“Well…” You fill the awkward silence with even more awkwardness. 

“I have a request for our relationship repair list.”

You smirk, eyes trained to the carpeted ground, It amazes you how white the rug was for a hotel room.”Shoot.”

“Let me call you every night. Good night or a conversation or whatever.” 

Cheeks ablaze you feel your tiny smile lines deepen. There's nothing more humbling than smiling at nothing. You were smiling deeply and you hope he can’t hear it in your voice when you say, “Sure.” in an attempt of being aloof and collected. You’d be kicking your feet if you could. Staring at the pink off-shoulder top that will likely be out to no use this trip. You think of sugar kisses. “Come to my hotel at 5. I want to go to the Christmas fair.” 

You hear the springs of his bed loud and creaking like he sat up, “Like a date?” A bit too high, he clears his throat. 

“No. Like Javi and Andrea hanging out in town. As friends. “ You’re not convinced yourself. “Okay?”

“Okay."

Javier is whipped, to put it lightly. He didn’t really care if it's just two friends hanging out. What a joke. Javier showered fifteen minutes longer than usual, hoping the stains of who he was in Colombia don’t show. Tempted to scrub his skin raw he decides that you’d have him stains and all. He steamed the red button up that had been catching dust at the top of his suitcase, ruffled his hair in the mirror–once–twice–three times. He gets it the way you like. Slightly falling over his forehead and curling at his nape naturally. His hair was swept to the side these days, an attempt to look like he has it together. He knows what you like best. You’ve never commented about it but he remembers the look you used to give him when he let his hair be. He considers putting on his ranch hat, sunglasses but opts the brown belt, jeans and cowboy boots had said enough. 

Dr. Hertz is going to kill me, he thinks the moment he looks at himself in the mirror and considers cutting flowers from the yard. 

Waiting for the bathroom so he could brush his teeth once more he wonders what gotten into you two last night. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, so quickly the two of you were reduced to sex crazed animals. He told himself it wasn’t going to be this way, that no matter how good you looked and— you never looked better— no matter what— he’d show you how good he could be first. 

But he fucked it all up talking about his hookers and eating your cunt. 

Now he’s being forced to show you how good he could be—on your own terms. Which was both terrifying and absolutely exhilarating. You must know how flustered he gets when you take control. He can feel himself crumbling already. Ready to drop to his knees and beg you just to trust his word. 

But you were a school teacher, you had to have believed in the tales you told your students. The hare and the tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race. He’ll be at that pace as long as it’s you at the finish line. 

Javier told Chucho that he was taking you out to the Holiday festival. He just smiled and went on with his business, which was wrapped in a blanket on his recliner watching a new American Experience episode on Ellis Island. Javier chuckles to himself while retrieving his keys at how content his father was on days like these. 

Turning the keys with a jiggle, Javier realizes his fathers truck was pushing on fifteen years old. I should really buy my own car. It struggles like it always did but eventually tracks the gravel onto the road. It was a chillier Christmas, like the weather knew you’d be in town. Give you a real taste of winter. The roads were clear up until main street when Javi realized that maybe taking the road past the festival wasn’t the smartest idea. He’ll blame his newfound discomfort for American roads after years in Colombia. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, looking at the window and realizing that all of Laredo would be there. Strangers who knew him, who read about him, who would wonder why he was here. Wondering why he was here with you and not Lorraine. They last saw him as the man who left the golden girl at the altar. The judging stares and whispers would be a guarantee. 

But once he approaches the grubby hotel you were at, your blinds open. Perched up on your bed in a pink sweater, eyes glued to a notebook scribbling. Heedful in your own way, like whatever you had to write was very important. Cute little ripple between your brows. In 1986 your hair was dark with a diamond in your nose. 

You lighten your hair, stop wearing your nose ring and start wearing rings. Javier feels his chest tighten with every second he’s looked at you since yesterday. It’s like every time you see him you’re trying to remind him that there will never be anyone else. 

Javier looks at himself in the rear view like a kid getting ready for his first date, nervous. It seemed that you noticed his headlights through your window because when he looked back up you were opening the door to your hotel. Javier opens the door to receive you. Light pink sweater falling off your shoulder showing him skin that would mean nothing to him if it were anyone else, but it’s you and his urge to step close and kiss that freckled spot. Brown skirt flowing below your knees. He’s ogling you and he doesn’t care, he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. When he looks back up at your face you're doing the same, eyes glued to his hair. Score. 

“Hi.” He steps close and grabs your waist and places a chaste kiss on the cheek. Skin soft, you smell good enough to eat. He clears his throat, readjusting his belt as he straightens up and you burn bright red. “You look beautiful.”

Timid eyes flash back to him, “Thank you, you look good too. Like the hair.”

Javier’s lips twitch for a smile but he bites it back. “Let’s head on the road before this car breaks down.”

You snort and cackle, just a week ago who told himself he’d do anything to hear that goofy laugh of yours. One that would ring out in the cafeteria, earned side glances and scoffs from people who were too cool for school. He remembers sitting tables away, Lorraine clung to him and his ears perking up at the sound of your giggle from feet away. 

“God I’ve done way too much in that car.” Javier steals a glance at you in the same way you look at him. Kicking your sandals off, pulling over and bouncing in his lap. You both looked at each other and pictured the same distant memory. Your eyes narrow stopping at the door of the truck. “Not. Like that.” Through your teeth yet still teasing , opening the door and hopping in. 

He says under his breath, “Yeah sure.” 

“God this was a shit idea.” The two of you stood side by side in the middle of mainstreet. Parking lots turned into grounds for dingy rides. Tents set up with rigged games. Crowded at every corner. Children running, laughter and The Ronettes blasting so loud it sparks your nerves. You look up at Javier next to you and he’s already pulling out a cigarette. “Everyone’s here. I swear I just saw Josefina Alto with a baby bump.” You exhale. Javier looks to you from the corner of his eye, lighting his cigarette.

“Who’s that?” He murmurs, stick dangling from his lip. 

“Seriously?” You cross your arms, he gives the same dumb stare and shrugs. “The girl you had sex with right before we started dating.” In the bar, trying to forget about me. You might add but chose not to get him in uncharted waters. His brows shoot high, a small play of realization and disgust spreads across his features. His eyes drop to the ground.

“Yeah.” He says it to himself like a child punished. You hadn’t figured that running into people you’d like to avoid is absolutely what will happen tonight. He drags and exhales. Looking ahead at the food stables ahead, decked in green and red. “Fuck it. I see Elote.” He begins to walk and you follow with a giggle. Impossible to stay mad. Tempted to grab his hand but this isn’t what this was. You’re not sure who needs more convincing, you or him. Elote didn’t really read Christmas but any fair was a place for great vendors. You try to catch up with Javier’s steps but fail considering he had a head start and far more comfortable shoes. 

“Wait up!” You shout, shivering a bit. Texas really took the New York out of you. Despite the blistering reality of being seen and judged the fair was a beautiful sight. Christmas lights strung between light posts. Storefronts decorated with tinsel and the sounds of laughter from young teens in the artificial snow pit a few feet away. 

Javier shook his head and glanced behind at you, “No one told you to wear kitten heels. Ms. Nueva York.” He says in an accent so thick it’s much more “nueva yol”  than york. 

Eyes rolled, you try to keep up. “I could say the same about the ranchero costume Agente.” 

“Haha.” He deadpans. Approaching a crowd of teens in the middle of their way, the line to the swings bleeding into streets of food trucks. Javi stops for you and distracted by the world surrounding you, you walk straight into his back. Nearly falling over Javier swings around and grasps your wrists. Bringing attention to them. Pulling you through the crowd with head nods of hellos and permiso’s. He really was a celebrity to these kids. Eyes wide and shocked at the sight of their hometown hero. Él mató a Escobar! And whispers alike. Wide eyes like he was Princess Di. Glances at you, fortunately they were middle and high school aged children who likely didn’t know what a scandal Javier Peña and Andrea Diaz had been for many years.

You figured your neighbors and church goers would come up with their own stories. It wasn’t until a late night call with Genie that you decided to pry and ask if people had asked about her.

Well, the people at the wedding saw what they saw. They saw you leaving abruptly into the church where Lorraine was. Heard commotion in the chapel and then Javi never showed up. Then people started telling their own stories, seeing you kiss him at the library just a week before, sneaking out to his car or whatever those people stuck their nose at. Everyone just thinks you're the other woman. 

And well, you were quite set on not being home for longer than two weeks a year before you found out what was being said. The stomach turning panic you develop each time you're home wasn’t aimless. 

Fuck them all, you grip Javier’s hand tighter and he looks back at you as if he’s asking you are you okay? He leads you to the line. The only sound between them is the christmas bells and chatter. Eyes flashing to your conjoined hands you jump out of your own skin and drop his hand. His brows twitch and you know it hurts him. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“You're a real local hero.”

He grunts, crossing his arms and you notice a slight bulge in the pockets of his denim jacket. “They can add that to the list of rumors.” You scoff, a breeze causing a rise of skin on your collarbone. You move up in line, the vendor's face is familiar but not enough to place a name. He still stares at the two of you a bit longer than your nerves appreciated. “¿Nos puedes dar dos elotes y dos chocolates con licor, por favor?¿Tienes cambio para un billete de cien?”

“Javi.” You tug his sleeve but he waves you off. This was how it used to be, you cursing him while pulling out your wallet and him looking at you feeling so deeply offended that you would dare lift a finger to pay for anything. Suppose Javier Peña was a traditionalist in that way. You know you’d be taken care of your whole life if you decided that was what you wanted. The vendor smiles and heads to prepare your order. Javier turned to you, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. “I have a job you know.”

His lips flip in a mocking frown with a shrug, “Thanks for the information.”

“Jodón.”

“That’s liquor.” Javier grunts, settling into the picnic table. You sip too, face screwing. 

Coughing, “Oh fuck. That shouldn't be allowed.” Javi nods, using a bite of his corn as a chaser. He groans in approval and tilts the cobb toward you. You comply, biting into it, mindful of not looking suggestive. 

His stare burns anyway. 

You can’t pretend, none of this felt real. It was too easy to fall back in, to laugh, to share food, to bicker, to touch. Could it be this easy? It couldn’t be. Easy wasn’t really Andrea and Javi’s thing. Weighted with anxiety, you bask in his gaze and all of it goes away. You can only think of how it feels to be heard. How it felt to have him with you the day you met your father. How just last night he held you. How you still touched your empty ear lobe when you felt alone. This, this has to work this time. I don’t have it in me to love anything else–anyone else. I’ll forever be plagued by you and all the years we spent apart and the months we spent in love. 

Wiping your lips and murmuring a mouthful thank you. You decide to get on track. Stick to the plan. Put it all out there so you could never hurt each other again. Ask him the questions that make him break contact. 

And you do the thing you always do, “Is hero so bad of a rumor?”. The thing where something lingers on your mind and you pick up on it minutes maybe hours later like the person next to you sat in the corner of your brain and watched it form. Jaya, your mother, your brother could never catch on. But Javi, fucking Javi, caught on every time. Thrived in your disorganization, familiar with your quirks. There’s no one else for me. 

He chews, jaw tightening. He was chiseled by the gods, lord was it unfair to those who came after him. “Rumors are damaging in their own ways. I’d like to forget about Colombia but being called a hero at home keeps me stuck there. Stuck in all the things I didn’t do.” He shrugs, “Now I’m afraid of failing on the basis of expectations I haven’t even set myself.” 

I want to know everything, you think, but not here.You didn’t know how to console him, any topic of his time at the DEA made him tense and timid. He would contort into a person unknown. All you can do is ask,  “Does it get in the way of your self perception?” 

His brows furrow, placing his corn on a paper plate. “Suppose so.” It is short, definitive, like he isn’t ready to elaborate. He reaches for a napkin and blots the corners of his mouth and then yours. Oh, how desperately you wanted to lean your forehead into his chest and stay there. Feel his palm cradle you. Is it so bad? “You?”

Lips pursed, you think for a moment, body facing him entirely. If it were any other day, if the wedding hadn’t happened, he would have had his hands on your knees. But his distance is respectful and he’s being awfully good. “Well the rumors about me arent very positive. Most people view me as some homewrecker that fled when it blew up in my face.”

“People know she lied.” 

“I know. That’s why she moved two towns away. Still, narratives were made. That I have always been this side piece that you’ve kept burning for you for almost a decade. Even in high school.” You take a sip and suddenly, the drink isn’t so bad. You almost continue but a child screeches from a table away, his mother wiping his shirt of hot chocolate. “Just feels like I’m being punished for being in love.It was our business and I guess that’s why I don’t like coming here.” Most of it is true. The trauma that you have connected with this town isn’t just because your one true love failed here. 

He nods, you can see that he’s taking it all in but tethering on the line of a question. “So why did you ask to come here… with me.” He doesn’t have to say it. You know what he means, why, why in your right mind would you willingly make such a public display despite the gut turning unease being in Laredo gives you. Your brows screw together because your reasoning feels silly, desperate–pathetic even. But Javier never judges you. 

“Cus’ I don’t want to feel this way forever. I want to be able to feel at ease in my own home.” Glancing from his red shirt, up the column of his neck and to his eyes. No one has ever been so interested in what you had to say. “And because despite everything you make me feel secure. We could hate each other but if I was forced to face a fear it’s you that I would call first to encourage me.” It’s a confession in itself, it's saying, and I still love you. He knows it because his warm eyes soften in a way that you yearned to see again. 

He clears his throat, choked up and he tries to hide it by looking at the string lights above. Attempting to seem interested in anything but you for a few moments, “You’re not alone in that… you know– in feeling that way. Everything that went down with Lorraine created a fear I didn’t know I had– its sadistic– selfish thinking but it was only you who I wanted to be consoled by.” There's pure reluctance in his voice, like he knows that this sounds crazy. 

It’s not to you–you thought about it sometimes. I wished I was able to be your friend, be there for you, but I was far too in love just to watch it all happen.

You give him a nod and take another sip. It was warming you up but not in any significant way. The tone of it all took a turn. I guess we’re doing this here. 

“Can I tell you something that bothered me.” A bit averse, afraid of sounding like some girl who wants to pick a fight with their ex. You just want answers. “It’s not like– it’s just something that I felt.”

Luckily, Javier knows you aren’t one of those girls. He nods with permission. Looking awfully southern, all he needed was a cowboy hat to tip and you’d be on your way. You exhale, bracing yourself because it was a long one. Probably something he’s never thought about. You start anyway. “In New Orleans we had like our first real fight. Do you remember?” He nods, not saying a word. Looking grumpy as ever, you were too tempted to kiss those pursed lips. Focus. “In the car we had unprotected sex.You came in me, you sort of– well not sort of– you cleaned me after. Then in the hotel room you sort of freaked out on me like I was just waiting to trap you. You told me I should have gotten off of you. It was only after I said I was on birth control that you told me that if I got pregnant that you’d stay but when you were faced with the tiniest chance you put me to blame. I guess it just made the Lorraine thing all the more– I don’t know-sad for me. Because you dropped everything. You never questioned her, but you did so to me. I guess in my own twisted head, hearing all these rumors about me I started to really feel like maybe I was just this place holder until she came home. I know it’s ridiculous. And stupid but I felt like the woman in the bell tower. I guess being alone makes you over analyze a lot of shit. Sorry, I’m being crazy.”

“You’re not being crazy.” It’s whispered and it’s fast, it nearly interrupts you. When you two are together it’s scarily easy to forget all that's around you. The passing glances, the whispers, the sleigh bells, babies crying and carnival buzzers. “I was afraid. I am afraid. I was afraid of altering our lives together because I know that if you got pregnant I would have paused my life for you–that you would have to put a pause on your own life. In my head we live our dreams and then we start our family. I was reckless with Lorraine because I knew no matter the outcome… me and her wouldn’t work. Oil and water. I wanted to do right by you. For a moment I realized I hadn’t really done right by myself. I would have saved myself and everyone around me a lifetime of pain if I just pried. But…”

“We can’t go back there.” You finish. 

He shakes his head, distant. “Yeah.” He scratches his jaw. “I'd give anything to go back to seventeen and do it all over.” 

Goosebumps rising on your collarbone you hug yourself and lean into the table. The sun was completely gone now, nothing to warm you than his hulking form next to you. Gaze fixating back on the only man you’ve ever loved. “What would you change?”

Javier can’t hide it, he’s like you. His lips twitch and his nostrils flare a bit. He doesn't need to answer, you know. He decides not to answer at all, eyes floating from your own to your neck and down to your shoulder. Clenching his jaw for a split second,he takes out a camera from his jacket pocket and places it on the table.

 For a moment you think this is quite the awkward time for pictures but you soon realize this wasn’t that. He begins to remove his denim jacket. He doesn’t struggle, he places it over your shoulders. Warming you once more. Hands hovered and retreated. Like he was fighting the urge to pull you into him. Rub you warm and kiss your temple. 

You smile to yourself and sling your arms where they belong. His oversized jacket dangling off your wrists and covering your hand. You were truly surrounded by him, the scent of him settling into you, overwhelming your senses and you get the incessant need to be in bed with him suddenly. Smirking you dig your denim paws into the pockets of his coat, digging for anything he didn't remove. 

Jackpot.

You whip out his reds with a smile and he can only with with a sly smirk. You look up at him and wiggle your brows, placing the carton down in front of you. Raising your wrists and shaking the fabric away like you’re getting prepared to eat a mess meal. You pull your sleeves back and pull one lone cigarette out. Placing it between your lips, you stare at the wooden table- perfecting your smolder before looking up at Javi. Lips pursed in a frown, cigarette dangling off your lips, brows furrowed. “Smokin’ all alone querida?” You deepen your voice. 

He bursts in a laugh, eyes closing and dimples deep. You don’t break character, flipping your hair out of your face. “Is that what I look like to you?”

Raising your pointer and middle finger in two form, you remove the cigarette from your lips. “Yes. Am I seducing you Andrea?” You ask, wiggling your brows once more.

He leans in close, so close his lips nearly press on the shell of your ear. “What does that say about me if you are?” He rasps, hand spanning  against your stomach. Holding you in a way that’s far more suggestive than any grope. 

Rolling your eyes, “You weren’t supposed to answer!” 

He laughs at how flushed he can make you. How in the cold you look a million degrees warm, tips of your ears fiery. His hold on your stomach bringing you back to being under him,  pressing, can you feel me here Andrea? 

Straightening up and moving to grab the camera, he struggles to figure out how it works. “Pose for me, give me your Javi face or whatever.” 

You grin, sitting up straight and posing. Drowning in his coat, doomed to smile with his cigarette between your lips. He whispers something about being so beautiful before the flash goes off. He smiles to himself, placing the camera back on the table. 

“Alright, I know who’s operating that ferris wheel let’s go.” 

Hands warmed by disposable cups of your spiked hot cocoa, you lived New York City winters but still the forty degree texas chill caused occasional teeth chatters. Staring up at the ferris wheel decked in Christmas lights you look over at him. Cheeks bitten by the wind, he was already looking over at you. Looking at you in his coat. You two had been playing a little game of 21 questions on line while it moved so so slowly. 

“And you? What’s your biggest fear?” You ask finally. What a strange thing this was, learning more about the person you know best. His eyes narrow at you for a moment. Mustache and lips twitching into what seemed to be a ghost of a frown. 

He makes this face and blows some low air like he’s about to say something so real yet slightly embarrassing. He clears his throat, “Becoming my mother.” He can’t look at you when he says it because he’s visibly cringing and quickly bringing his hard hot cocoa to his lips. 

You blink hard at that. Blowing a raspberry with your lips. “Fuuuuuuuck” You say in an exhale. “I’ll drink to that.” You clink your drink with his while it was at his mouth, quickly taking a sip and catching him off guard. Laughing into his own drink it splashes in his face. 

Covering your own mouth, nearly choking on your drink and snorting and giggling so loud the surrounding line stares the two of you down with  judging eyes. Javier wipes his mustache that drips. Like always, the two of you laugh without regard of whos watching. 

Javier eventually slips the operator a smile and four dollars and you are loading the rickety piece of metal. Securing the holster until it clicks. Giddy, you lean your head into his shoulder quickly—feeling a surge of happiness before straightening up. 

“Happy?” Brow raised. 

You shrug, “Just missed you is all.” The stomach pitting rocking began as your cart lifted higher and higher in the air. Donny Hathaway’s “This Christmas” bleeds out the ride's low quality speakers.  

He hummed. Reaching an experimental hand out onto your lap, palm up. Lustful nights turned to innocent actions the next. Something in you heals. No cares, refusal to conform to what you should do according to everyone else. Run, two damaged goods are just as useless as one. You intertwine your hand with his. Pads of your fingertips pressed against his knuckles. 

Christmases spent stressed, the ones she spent alone. You decide this once you won’t rip herself from this illusion. God, you hope it wasn’t an illusion. 

He stares intently at where you connect. Those hands of his that have done wrong to many, still dwarfs yours. 

“Andrea.” It’s featherlight. Not in need of a response. “Stay at my house. I don’t like the idea of you at that place— when your home is here—with us—with me and my dad.”

You think of your plan. You think of how lonely it felt to be stuck in an outdated inn, watching M*A*S*H with only the sound of your breathing and the running air conditioning. His house was your home. 

“Alright. But I’m sleeping on the cot.” The uncomfortable little mattress that stood up at the basement of the Peña Ranch. Thrown on the floor with quilts whenever your brother would crash. 

“I’ll sleep on the cot.”

“No that’s unfair it’s your bed.”

“You’re my guest.” 

“I thought that it was my home? I’ll take the cot.” The ride jolts at the top of wheel. A view of the entire town, if you squint, you see the hills that lead to the rolling land where he lives. Homes glowing in various colors, the town that brings you pain, burns so beautifully for the two of you.

“Fine. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I want you in the room with me.” You rush, burning bright at your display of desperation. Javier chuckled, squeezing your hand. 

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep.” 

“Or we can share the bed.” He suggests, slowly and mischievously, you both smirk at each other. Flashes of you pawing at his hair while he holds you still, making you feel all that you’ve missed. He gives a toothy grin, “Yeah… better not.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Jump Then Fall - Part 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 3600+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.

**Shoutout to @VaneMando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Part 2<<

He's coming back. Chucho is bringing Javier back after 6 years. What do I say? How do I tell him he has a son who is already 6 years old? Will he even remember me? Will he want to be a part of mine and Alex's life or will he turn and run?

My mind spirals as I finish drying the last few pans before putting them away. I head upstairs, my brain going through a million different scenarios before I take a quick glance in the mirror. I smooth down my hair and put on a new outfit, a simple summer dress that goes down to my knees, and end up randomly tidying and cleaning the house, never settling on one spot.

I knew this day would come. I guess I just never thought about it specifically. 6 years ago, I was so sure of my choice not to tell him, that I wouldn't want him distracted in Colombia but I wouldn't want him to come home and resent us for forcing his choice. But a part of me, ok a large part of me, feels guilty for not giving him the choice.

I hear Chucho's truck pull up outside and my heart starts beating faster. The truck doors slam and muted voices make their way to the front door. I pick up the book on the counter in front of me and open it, my eyes not taking in a word but I didn't want to look like I was waiting around for them. For him.

"...'m fine. You don't have to b-baby me."

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't vomit on the clean floors."

He's drunk. I can tell by the way his words are slurred, his feet thunking across the wood floors in a sporadic pattern. Before I can move, he stumbles through the kitchen doorway, his eyes taking a few moments to focus on me.

"Who are you?"

My hearts sinks a little. I would've been surprised if he remembered me, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

"Vanessa."

He steps closer to me, his eyes scanning my body before settling on mine.

"Are you fucking my dad?"

"Uh, no. I-"

"Ok, Javi. Time for bed. Vanessa will be here later for you to question," Chucho claps his hands on Javier's shoulders and guides him towards the doorway.

"Ok, ok. I have more questions later, Vanessssssa."

I give him a little wave as he disappears through the doorway. Chucho struggles to get him up the stairs, but eventually the sounds of them arguing disappear and I'm left alone for the moment. I turn around, gripping the counter with both of my hands and take several deep breaths.

He doesn't remember me. Or maybe it's because he's drunk? How do I handle it now?

His eyes, though filled with the drink, held a lot of anger and regret. He's hurting. I can't imagine what he's seen or had to do in persuit of Escobar. Chucho walks back in, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Sorry about him. He doesn't usually get drunk like that."

I wave my hand. "It's fine. I imagine he's been through a lot."

"Still, it's not an excuse to act like an asshole...he's going to be out for a bit but I'm thinking hamburgers for dinner? Something greasy to help that hangover he's going to have."

"Sounds good."

Chucho studies me for a moment. "How are you?"

That's a good question. "I...I'm not entirely sure."

"You need to tell him."

I nod. "Of course. But I can't tell him when he's drunk."

He chuckles. "No, I suppose not. But soon, ok?"

I give him a small smile before moving to get out the ingredients to bake some hamburger buns. Chucho moves to the living room, the tv turning on a moment later. He flips the channel and the news report echoes through the doorway to me.

"Breaking news! Pablo Escobar has just been killed. This is live footage of the rooftop where he was killed by DEA agent Steve Murphy..."

I step into the living room, watching the live broadcast of the rooftops where the outline of a dead man lays splaid on the tiles, other men in tach vests surrounding him. A blonde man high fives someone as the news anchor continues their report. But then it dawns on me.

Javier is not there, finally catching Escobar after 6 years of chasing him. He's here. No wonder he's drunk. What happened?

"Why is Javier here, Chucho?"

He's quiet a moment. "I don't know."

I return to the kitchen, mixing the dough before forming the buns. I can't imagine working for 6 years trying to catch one of the most elusive men, only to be forced away at the very end, not even being allowed to be there for his capture. I'd lose my mind too. I know I need to tell him about Alex, but I also need to give him a moment with this.

But how long of a moment?

-------

It takes 3 days for Javier to come out of a drunken stupor. I hear his bedroom door open as he stumbles down the hall with a groan, the bathroom door closing behind him. I hear a slam from the bathroom, sounding like the toilet lid. I wipe my hands on my apron and head upstairs, hesitating for a moment outside of the bathroom door. I knock very gently.

"Javier? Are you alright?"

A grunt followed by another violent heaving sound answers me. I turn the handle, slowly pushing the door open as the heaving subsides. Javier slumps against the side of the bathtub, his hand moving around to find the handle to flush the toilet. His hair is rumpled, his eyes mostly closed, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. I walk over to the toilet and close the lid, flushing the toilet for him. His hand drops to his lap and he takes a couple of deep breaths.

"Thanks."

"Of course. Do you want help up?"

He cracks his eyes open and looks at me. "You're not my dad."

"That I am not."

He lifts his head, opening his eyes a little more before hissing and closing them, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "The fucking light is going to kill me."

"Well I can't do anything about the light coming in this window. But let's get you back to your room in bed. You'll feel better."

I wait a few moments while he gathers himself, extending my hand to help him up. He squints at me and I roll my eyes.

"Just take my hand. I'm stronger than I look."

He takes it and I have to hold back a gasp as his large hands engulf my small ones, the warmth from the contact sparking all sorts of thoughts and memories. I pull him to his feet and he leans on me as I help him back to his room, pulling back the sheets as he slides in. I pull all of his curtains firmly shut, only using the light from the hallway to see around. Javier settles into bed, groaning a little as he puts his hand on his stomach.

"I'll bring you some water and pain meds."

"Oh you don't have-"

"That wasn't a question."

I head back downstairs, getting a glass of water. I stop by the bathroom again, opening the medicine cabinet and getting out some pain meds. I also pull out the bottle of activated charcoal tablets that Chucho handed me shortly after Javier came home. He said they suck to choke down but they'd really help the hangover. I carry everything to his room, shaking out the right amount of charcoal tablets. Javier sits up with another groan, taking the pills and the glass of water.

"This isn't aspirin."

"No. It's activated charcoal. Chucho said it will really help your hangover. You can't take it with any meds though as it'll just absorb those."

"I'll just take the aspirin."

"I really think you need to take the charcoal."

He looks up at me. "I don't even know who you are why the fuck would I listen to you?"

"Because I just carried your stubborn self all the way from the bathroom after you puked your guts out. I'm just trying to help. Take the damn pills."

He studies me through squinted eyes. "Yes ma'am." He chokes down the pills and makes a disgusted face before drinking several sips of water. "Those taste terrible."

"I never claimed they tasted good. So let those do their work and get some rest. When you're ready, come downstairs and I'll make you something to eat."

He looks at me again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together in concentration. "No really, who are you?"

"Vanessa. Now get some rest."

He lays back and I pull the blanket up, giving him a small smile when I catch him looking at me. I leave the room and head back downstairs, finishing up some of the lesson planning I was doing for the upcoming semester.

A few hours later, Javier comes downstairs, this time with a shirt. Although he only has the bottom 3 buttons done up. I'm not sure why he even bothered with a shirt. Not that I'm complaining. He stands there awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do.

"Feeling better?" I ask, turning to face him from my stool at the kitchen island.

"Yeah. Those charcoal things worked really well."

"Good. I've never been hungover so I wasn't sure, but I figured Chucho knew what he was talking about. Are you hungry?"

"I uh...I'm not sure," his hand goes to his stomach, his face souring slightly.

I head over to the slow cooker on the counter. "I made some chicken noodle soup. If anything, you can sip on the broth?" I look over at him, his head cocked to the side, watching me.

"Javier?"

"What? Oh soup. Yeah. Sure."

I ladle him a bowl and grab some saltines and set them on a little plate next to his bowl and set it in front of him. I also set down a glass filled with cloudy looking water.

"Coconut water?" Javier asks skeptically.

I shrug. "My mom always gave it to me during and after a cold. Said it gave me back nutrients. I figure alcohol probably takes a fair amount of nutrients from you. So it should help."

"Hhmm. Guess we'll find out." He takes a tentative sip from the cup, licking his lips a little after. "Hey that's sitting alright."

I give him a small smile. "Good."

Before I can move, he grabs my arm and gives it a little squeeze, sending jolts of electricity through me. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome."

I sit and pull my planner and books to me, resuming my task of lesson planning. I can feel his eyes on me, like he's studying me. I wish he would find something else more interesting.

"What are you doing?"

I don't look up. "Lesson planning for this upcoming semester."

He takes a slurp of his soup and swallows it. "Teacher? Holy shit this soup is amazing."

I look up at him as he takes another bite, his eyes closing for a moment as he savors the soup.

"Yeah. I'm teaching 2nd grade this year."

"Sounds fun. Seriously, what did you do to this soup?"

"My mom taught me how to cook," My eyes sting and my heart hurts thinking of those memories.

"Well, she did a damn good job."

"Sometimes she got it right."

He looks up at me. "Oh. I'm sorry I touched a nerve."

I wave my hand. "It's ok. I've come to terms with it."

He sets his spoon down, all of his focus on me. His gaze is intense, that little furrow between his brow is back. "You look-"

"Good you're awake, puto. Put some pants on and come help me." Chucho walks in the back door, stomping his boots on the mat outside before stepping in.

"I don't know if I-"

"Come on, son. No more babying I gave you time. Now I need your young bones."

"You sound like a bruja." (witch). But Javier pushes back from the island and starts to grab his plate.

"Don't worry about it, I got it." I stand, leaning over to take the bowl and plate, noticing that he'd eaten all of it. "I have more if you want some."

His dark eyes bore into mine, fanning a flame inside of me. "I want whatever you give me, Vanessa."

SMACK! Chucho slaps Javier on the back of his head.

"What the fuck?"

"Stop flirting and come help me before these chickens run halfway to Mexico."

-------

Chucho and Javier are gone for a few more hours and return just as the sun is setting. I hang up the phone, having had my nightly call with Alex, who is having a blast at science camp. The men kick off their work boots and coats, trudging upstairs to shower.

"Dinner will be ready soon so don't take long!" I yell after them.

Chucho devours the steak I'd made him while Javier opts to have another couple bowls of soup. Before long, Chucho leans back, slapping his stomach.

"Well, I am tired. Gonna get an early sleep. Vanessa? Delicious, as usual. Night, everyone."

"Good night, Chucho."

While he heads upstairs, I start to clean up, Javier immediately moving to help me. I shake my head.

"Nope. I got this."

"I can help."

"Really, it's ok."

"Are you always this stubborn?

"Are you?"

He looks at me before he smirks, but then it's gone just as fast. Man am I fucked.

"I can dry?"

"I appreciate the offer, but really. I'm ok."

"Does washing the dishes relax you or something?"

I know he said it in jest, but now that I think about it, it kind of does. The warm, soapy water calms me down. Gives me space to think.

"Yeah sort of."

He puts his hands up. "Say no more. I don't want to intrude." Did he just wink at me? Javier heads from the kitchen and I hear the front door open, the screen door slapping closed behind him.

After I'm done with the dishes, I dry my hands, thinking. I grab another glass of coconut water and head towards the front door, hesitating for several moments before pushing open the screen. Javier sits on the swing bench, facing out to look over the front half of the farm, a cigarette lit and in between his fingers. He takes a long drag, his lips rounding to blow out the smoke.

"I thought you should hydrate again." I hold up the glass and he turns to look at me, his eyes coming back into focus. He beckons me to him and I walk up, handing him the glass.

"That's a nasty habit, you know," I nod towards the cigarette in his hand.

He shrugs. "You have your relaxing activity, and I have mine." Still, he leans forward and puts it out on the tray he'd set on the arm of the bench. "Come. Sit."

I take a breath and sit, our thighs nearly touching. The air feels electrified, like it's waiting for something to happen. We sit like this for a while, staring out at the cows grazing in the front fields, Javier lightly rocking the swing as he rolls his foot back and forth.

"Thank you for...everything. Taking care of me and..everything." He turns his head to look at me in the light coming in through the windows from the house.

"It's not a problem. Anyone would do it."

He snorts. "Not for me."

"And why not?"

He pauses a moment. "I'm not a good guy."

"Well I know that's not true. You're a great man, Javier." I place my hand on his forearm without thinking, and squeeze. He looks down at where I touch him, placing his hand over mine before looking at me.

"I'm really not. I just..." He trails off, his eyes sweeping over my face. "You...you look familiar. It's been killing me for days."

Well. Now is the time. For this confession, at least.

"That's because we know each other."

His brow furrows slightly. "I had a feeling. From where?"

It still hurts a little that he doesn't remember, even though I know it's a trauma response. Memory loss and PTSD can often go hand in hand.

"You...you gave me a rose, once."

Recognition immediately ripples over his face, his eyes widening, his eyebrows raising a little as he shifts his body to face me.

"Vanessa? From the bar? Right before I left for Colombia?"

I smile nervously. "That's me."

"Summer of new things Vanessa?"

I nod. "Yup. Me."

His eyes are twinkling now, a small smile creeping up his face. "Holy shit! I never thought I'd see you again. It was so hard to walk away from you that morning. The only thing that did it was the fact that the DEA would come down on me hard for missing that flight." His eyes soften the longer he looks in mine and for a moment, we're both transported back to that night, the night he opened up my world.

"H-how are you?" He's hesitant, but his eyes are wide and curious.

"Not bad."

"How did you end up here? I thought you were going back to-" he waves his hand around trying to think. "Austin?"

"Corpus Christi."

He snaps his fingers. "That was it."

Do I tell him about Alex? About being a father? Something inside me tells me to wait. To only surprise Javier with one thing at a time. He's been through so much and the last thing I want to do is pile more on top of that.

"It's a long story but I...got pregnant and my parents..well, they didn't approve. Out of wedlock. Anyway, they kicked me out and I uh, ended up here. Chucho I guess took pity on me and gave me a place to stay. I offered to cook and clean for him which of course he argued against, but," I shrug. "And so I stayed. He demanded I return to college and get my teaching degree I had been working on and he babysat Alex while I did. I owe him so much. My life, basically. I don't know how I'll be able to repay him."

His eyes grew serious. "You're parents kicked you out pregnant?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"That's fucked. Sorry, but it is."

I shrug. "They were the kind of parents that would scrub my mouth out with soap and make me repeat scripture if I had nail polish on so I guess I'm not surprised. I've made peace with it."

"Still. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks."

We sit in silence for another few moments, one weight on my chest lifted but a very heavy one still remaining.

"The dad didn't help?"

Here's your chance, Vanessa. You can tell him now, despite everything. Tell him. TELL. HIM.

"He...He had other things to do."

Javier scoffs. "What an asshole."

I shake my head vehemently. "No, it's not..they were very important."

"More important than knocking up a young woman?"

"I think so."

"I'm sure."

I turn to face him more directly. "What if it was yo-"

RING RING! RING RING!

The phone cuts through our conversation, forcing an ending that I wasn't ready for. Javier attempts to stand but I put my hand out.

"It might be Alex. I've got it."

I feel his eyes on me as I go inside, answering the phone quickly. It wasn't Alex but some automated political message and I grunt, hanging up the phone in frustration. I should go back outside and explain everything to him, confess it all, but I don't. I do peak my head back outside and call his name, momentarily flustered when he looks at me.

"It was some political something."

"I fucking hate those."

"I'm going upstairs. Drink that coconut water." I point to the untouched glass in his hand and he holds it up towards me.

"Yes, ma'am."

-------

>>Chapter 4>>

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[juletheghoul]

Move Into Me

Trying something a little different here. After lots of encouragement from fellow member of the Libra Legion, and co-founder of the Dilf Patrol, I have written a one-shot about an OFC. Now I understand that this is not everyone's cup of tea and that is okay with me. We can still be friends. For those of you who are interested - I hope you enjoy.

@beskarboobs - this ones for you.

reblogs are appreciated

Pairing: Javier x F! Latina / Hispanic OFC - Yamila Martinez (Of Cuban decent - all translations of the Spanish words and phrases will be included within parentheses)

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: yearning, angst, jealousy, language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), slight dirty talk, Oral-female receiving

I just went ahead and used my Pedro Taglist but if you don't want to be included for fics like this - no worries just let me know!

----

She heard him before she saw him.

The unit next to her had been empty for months and it looked like she was finally getting a neighbour. She didn’t really know how to process her feelings about it. she’d gotten used to living beside an empty unit. She didn’t miss having to be careful of the noise - her loud phone calls with her mother, music playing as she cooked.

By the time she reaches the door she can hear him swearing and trying to push the door in by force. There were boxes crowding the hallway and she took pity.

“Hey- here let me help, the people before you had trouble with it too.” She walked over and held out her hands for his key. He was scowling, but he handed them over without a word.

“Trick is- there it is, a little click. Sounds weird but don’t push your key in all the way, listen for the little click then turn.. ekele kua.” She swung the door open for him and moved out of the way with a smile.

His scowl was gone, replaced by a curious friendliness.

“Jesus, thanks I would have been here all day, what did that mean?” He spoke as he shoved the nearest box inside.

“Oh sorry, just something my mom said growing up. Hi - I’m Yamila Martinez.”

“Javier Peña.” She hadn’t really taken him in before, too focused on the keys and remembering her previous neighbours. He was tall and handsome, dark brown hair and eyes. He was lean but strong. A neatly trimmed moustache framing his top lip. His bottom lip full - she snapped out of it.

She held out her hand to shake..

“Did you need some help bringing your boxes in?” She gestured vaguely behind her. He had an endearing curve in his nose.

“I’m okay, thanks though.” He smiled as he went about bringing in his belongings.

“I’ll leave you to it, I’m just next door if you need anything.” She smiled and retreated back into her apartment.

———————————-

Insomnia had its icy grip on her tonight.

No matter how comfortable she thought she was, no matter how much tila tea or warm milk drank - which frankly she thought was disgusting - she could not fall asleep.

She opened up her window and climbed out to sit on the fire escape. It was a nice night and a little time outside usually helped.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cut through the silence and she let out a small scream - nearly jumping out of her skin. She clutched at her heart - it was racing and for a second she thought it might burst out of her chest.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the fuck out of me!” She whispered it half angrily, half relieved. He laughed, a real deep-throated laugh.

He was gorgeous. She was half naked.

Usually when she came out here she was by herself and no one really noticed. He made no mention of her coming out in just a long shirt and comfortable undies, she made no mention of him being shirtless in a pair of undone jeans.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you. I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to get fresh air. Seems we both had the same idea.” He offered her a cigarette which she took. He pulled out a lighter and cupped it, bringing it to her mouth.

“It’s okay, I usually come out here when I can’t sleep either. Got way too used to not having a neighbour.” She tried her best to calm down as they both smoked in silence.

“Have you lived here long?” He broke the silence.

“Here in Colombia or here in the building?” She did her best to blow the smoke away from his face as she spoke.

“Both I suppose, your English is really good.”

“Thanks, I was born in Miami but my mom brought my brother and I when we were little, my step dad is Colombian. Been living in this building for a few years.” She tapped the cigarette against the ashtray he was holding, her ashes adding to his. “What is it you do?”

“DEA actually.” He crushed the end of his as he spoke, the smoke coming out his nose.

Hm. Another one, she thought as she sighed heavily. No one in Colombia was ignorant to what had happened with Escobar, and unlike some of the locals she knew - she didn’t worship the man so she did what she always did, she cracked a joke. ”Drug enforcement, better hide my stash then.” He chuckled again.

“You do that, anywhere but under the mattress, that’s the first place I look.” She didn't know if he was kidding but thinking of him anywhere near her mattress made her flush. Luckily it was dark.

“I’ll definitely remember. Thanks Agent Peña.” She gave him a thumbs up and instantly regretted it.

It was nice to sit outside with someone. As much as she liked the privacy of not having a neighbour, she missed having someone to talk to. Not that Javier seemed like the super talkative type.

She finally started to feel her eyelids getting heavy, her cue to get into bed.

“Bedtime for me, hasta mañana Javier.” She made to climb back into her apartment.

“You can call me Javi - hasta mañana [goodnight].” He made his way inside his own apartment.

“Hasta mañana Javi.”

———————————————

She heard the moans and soft grunts through the wall. It made her flush all over.

It had been a few weeks since Javi moved in and this was happening way too often. It was never the same woman, but it always ended the same way. She’d hear him open up his apartment - eventually - along with a woman’s voice. Both of them talking and laughing in low whispers, which would eventually turn into moans and groans. It served to highlight her lack of a sex life depressingly.

She could hear the other woman a little louder now - seemingly reaching her peak and she shuddered. She was painfully attracted to Javi and for a moment she imagined it was her underneath him.

She covered her face with the pillow to try and drown out the sounds roughly. Her cat jumped off the bed having been woken up by her tossing.

“I know Lito I’m sorry.” She whispered to him, and blessedly a few minutes later they were finally done.

Now came the awkward part - the door opening, and him wishing her a goodnight. Her quiet footsteps down the hall towards the elevator. It was maddening.

Once it was quiet she thought it might be safe to head out for a cigarette, thinking he was probably asleep.

She was enjoying the quiet night air as he came out onto the landing, lit cigarette hanging off his lip. He looked so beautiful like this, relaxed, a slight sheen on his chest from his… activities.

“You’re awake?” he sat next to her, bumping shoulders conspiratorially.

“Yeah - my new neighbour’s a dick.” It came out harsher than she wanted it to.

“Sorry - I didn’t realize, you heard everything huh? Oh Jesus - you’ve heard it every time haven’t you?” He had the decency to look ashamed, she enjoyed that more than she thought she would.

“Yep, every time. You’ve been busy.” she said it a little softer, bumping his shoulder back to let him know she wasn’t actually angry.

“I’m sorry - I should be more considerate. I’ll try to keep it quiet. If I’m ever making too much noise just bang on the wall. How’s that vecina?” you couldn’t help but watch his mouth as he spoke.

She raised her eyebrows at him, her fingers moving the bulk of her thick hair from one side of her head to the other. He smiled, his hair had fallen over his eyes and it took everything in her not to push it away.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that - especially if you’re in the middle of it. Not going to bang on the wall like an annoying old maid. Just try to fuck quietly.” She laughed as she said it and he ran a hand over his face in embarrassment.

“Okay okay - point taken.” He left it at that and the both of them sat in silence. This had been happening a lot since he moved in. Both of them found it hard to sleep at night, so they’d eventually end up on the fire escape, smoking and chatting idly and she ignored how comfortable it felt. How happy this time with him made her, both of them usually half-dressed - unselfconscious.

“How’s work?” She turned to look at him and he sighed big at the question.

“It’s a lot.” All the playfulness was gone from his tone - his voice low and raspy.

“Did you want to talk about it?” She didn’t want to push him, the two of them usually stuck to small talk.

“Well, Escobar is gone, but he’s not the only one. Can’t really say much more than that.” He stubbed out his cigarette as he spoke. She didn’t respond, letting him say whatever he wanted to say, he left it at that.

She could see the weight of whatever it was he was dealing with on his face and she put her hand on his arm to let him know she was there for him. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed in understanding and although it would have thrilled her to have him touch her this way any other time, it pulled at her heartstrings. He was troubled, and from what she could see, he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. She rested her head on his shoulder quietly, her way of letting him know she was on his side.

They both sat in silence for a long time.

------------------------------------------

She heard the knock on her door as she was towel drying her hair.

“Hola vecina [hello neighbour]- was wondering if you could help me with something.” Javi was standing at her door, wearing a buttery soft looking leather jacket - holding a giant duffle bag.

“You want to move in?” She laughed with a raised eyebrow.

He shook his head - “Very funny, leaving on assignment for a couple of weeks. Can I leave my keys with you? Would really appreciate it if you could just air out the apartment every few days, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge.” he held his keys out to her and she took them, throwing them onto the little catch-all plate beside her.

“Sure, bring me back something nice.” She said it sweetly and he nodded - she couldn’t help but stare at his neck. His button up shirt had a few unbuttoned at his throat and it was very distracting. He caught her looking.

“See you soon.” he walked away with a smile and he was ashamed to say she stared at his ass longer than she should have.

-------------------

She ignored the part of her that wanted to open up Javi’s closet. She wanted to wear one of his shirts but she pushed that urge deep down, making sure to avoid it all together.

His apartment was sparse but neat, the layout was a mirror of hers - their bedrooms shared a wall. No wonder she heard everything he did in here. His bed was neatly made - not a lot of homey touches. She opened up his windows before going through his fridge. Looking for anything that might be on the turn to get rid of it. He didn’t have much.

She dumped out some milk that was already bad - everything else was preserved and would last until he got back. Did this man eat any vegetables?

“¿Javi no está en casa?” [Javi’s not home?] The woman had come up behind her as she was locking his door.

“No, tuvo que salir - halgo con el trabajo.” [No, he had to leave, something to do with work.] She smiled at the woman, but she frowned, noticing that Yamila had a key to his apartment. She answered the question before she could ask it.

“Soy la vecina nomas, desafortunadamente no se cuando regresará .” [I’m just his neighbour, unfortunately I don’t know when he’ll be back.] She made to walk away.

“¿Le puedes decir que vine? Soy Gabriela.” [Can you let him know I stopped by? I’m Gabriela.] She looked vaguely annoyed and Yamila couldn’t help but feel awkward. He didn’t talk about any of the women he brought home.

“Claro que si, adiós!” [Of course, goodbye!] She walked away as Yamila retreated back into her apartment.

-

Javi knocked on her door a few days later looking for his keys and looked mildly confused when she told him about her encounter with the woman looking for him.

“Said her name was Gabriela.” She felt awkward- telling him about one of his hook-ups coming to look for him.

“She came here? That must have been awkward for you - I’m sorry. I’ll call her.” He wasn’t cruel about it, moreso surprised that she had come back.

“I guess you made an impression on her.” She smiled at him warmly, she didn’t want him thinking she was judging him. He lingered a bit as he grabbed his keys from her.

“I just made dinner and I know for a fact there is nothing at your place to eat. Go get settled and come back - I’ll fix you up a plate.” He protested but she gave him no choice. “I know you’re not going to turn down arroz con frijoles [rice & beans], go, bañate [shower].” he laughed as she pushed him out the door.

He came back with some beer from his fridge a little while later.

“Took a little longer than I meant to, sorry.” He handed her a beer as she handed him his plate. He smelled like irish spring and aftershave - his hair still damp. He looked so inviting she had to look away.

“No problem, it’s still warm. Hope the work thing went well.” They both sat at her little kitchen table, the picture of domesticity. He chatted about his work, nothing explicit but more than he ever had before. He opened up to her and she got the impression that he had wanted to talk about it for a while.

He talked for a long time - throughout your whole meal. About all manner of things, Escobar, his partner - Gabriela. She held her tongue and let him speak. It was the most she’d ever heard him speak in the months he’d lived next door.

“That’s a lot to deal with Javiersito, sounds like it was really intense. Have you considered speaking to someone?” She asked it gently - now that he had gotten it all out he looked relieved.

“No - I’m fine - thanks for listening though.” he drank the rest of his beer as he squeezed her hand in thanks.

“I think we should have a real drink.” She had a bottle of aguaardiente calling her name.

-

The alcohol barely burned in her throat by now, she had a pleasant buzz and could feel her inhibitions lifting. He was smiling freely, the usual frown gone. She caught him looking at her, the expression was in no way neighbourly and it excited her more than she would ever admit.

Her mind drifted to the parade of women he’d brought home since he’d moved in. The grunts he would make, the moans he would coax out of them and she flushed even more. She desperately wanted to be one of those women.

He was sitting on her sofa like he owned it. Legs spread, arms relaxed by his sides and a curious look on his face. He was looking through her. She used the courage the drinks gave her to walk over to him. She stood between his legs and looked down at him, trying to convey the want she felt for him with her eyes.

He was still giving her that look, making no move to pull her towards him - or push her away.

She slowly straddled him, folding up her long legs - putting her knees on either side of him to settle in his lap. He smelled so good and her boldness was building. She pulled her shirt off and sat there in her bra, he brought his hands to rest on her thighs. There could be no mistaking what she wanted.

He stopped her before she could kiss him. His hands holding onto her arms, she was confused.

“We shouldn’t.” He watched her mouth as he spoke, bringing his gaze down to her breasts, the soft skin of her belly, the apex of her thighs. The look said he wanted her but his hands held onto her firmly.

“Why not? I’m not drunk - just brave, I want you Javiersito.” She smiled what she imagined was a sexy smile and tried to kiss him again.

“Quit it, I don’t want to do this.” The with you was implied. It felt like he had slapped her across the face. The rejection burned in her throat much harsher than the aguardiente ever had. He saw the hurt on her face and let out a heavy sigh. She felt so stupid, so desperate and ugly. She pulled out of his hands forcefully, grabbing her shirt and turning before he could see the hot angry tears streaming down her face. The jealousy at all those faceless women he had fucked without a second thought boiled her blood.

“I’m sorry, I-” She cut him off.

“You know my name, that must be it right? Can’t pretend you don’t know me after.” She lashed out, it hurt so much to have him so close, knowing he had no problem with casual sex, with anyone but her. Deep down she knew she was speaking out of anger and hurt but at that moment she didn’t care. The mix of alcohol and rejection made her vicious and the colour bloomed on her chest and face - her skin reddening.

“That’s not fair, I don’t want you to hate me after. I’m not in a good place and you mean more than those other women. I don’t want to use you like that. I should go, thanks for everything.” He spoke gently and the hurt in his voice was making her angrier.

She didn’t say anything as he walked out the door, her anger and hurt kept her silent.

She heard him climb out onto the fire escape a few hours later, a soft knock on her window.

“Yami, come out and sit with me.” He spoke low and Lito looked up at him, meowing softly.

She ignored him.

-

The next day was awful. She felt foolish and embarrassed. She’d presented herself to him and he’d pushed her away. She didn’t think you’d be able to face him for a while. She made sure to leave for work an hour early so as not to have to face him in the hallway.

He was there when she got home though. Hearing her familiar gait walking up to her door and he opened up his door - the sound of it making the bottom of her stomach feel like it was dropping onto the floor.

“We need to talk.” he had his scowl back on and she couldn’t deal with it right now. Not after yesterday, not after working with a headache and hangover and heartbreak.

“There’s nothing to talk about Javier, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. You’ve never expressed any sexual interest in me whatsoever and I put you on the spot. I’m sorry about what I said, I felt embarrassed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” She closed the door in his face before he could get another word in. She pressed her forehead against the door as she locked it, hearing him sigh heavily and eventually make his way back inside.

The anger and hurt burned through her just as fiercely as the night before and the tears ran freely as she showered.

She’d been ignoring him for days. He tried to talk to her but she couldn’t bring herself to face him - she gave him excuses, she was tired. She had a headache. She told him everything was fine but he knew it wasn’t. Eventually he stopped asking.

-

She hadn’t heard him leave, but she definitely heard him come home. She heard the familiar sound of a woman laughing, this time he told her to be quiet. That hurt more than everything and her chest ached knowing he had someone he didn’t give a shit about in his apartment. She couldn’t cope with the sounds that would surely follow after they entered his place. She braced herself for them, the anticipation much worse. They came. They always came.

She was vocal but she heard him telling her to keep it down over and over until eventually she could hear her asking what was wrong. The walls of the building were paper thin.

She made her way to the fire escape, not wanting to hear any more of their exchange.

She smoked out there on her own, trying vainly to soothe herself. This is not the first time she’d experienced rejection and she knew it wouldn’t be her last. There was nothing left but to just accept it. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like her that way. If things were reversed she would expect him to understand and respect her wishes. She’d just have to toughen up and do the same, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

She heard his window open and he came outside to sit with her, keeping a healthy distance. At least he wore a shirt this time. She didn’t look up at him, her tears had dried up a while ago but her face was puffy from crying. She didn’t care if he noticed.

“I didn’t make too much noise, did I Yami?” He spoke in low tones and the question made her angry. She felt like hitting him but she took a deep breath.

“No. You made the usual amount.” Her voice was hoarse from crying, from the pain in her throat from trying to swallow up her tears. Even so she couldn’t keep the acid tone out of her words. She took a deep breath, she had to calm down - she couldn’t treat him this way. She got up to climb back into bed, there would be no more noise to keep her awake now.

He grabbed her hand to hold her back and she snatched it back as though she’d been burned. She saw his face fall, and the guilt rose bringing with it the urge to apologize. He beat her to it.

“Sorry, I’m sorry if I hurt you, you have to know I care about you.” He spoke so sadly, the frown still present. She wanted so badly to smooth it away, to kiss his forehead and feel him wrap his arms around her.

“I know. Goodnight Javiersito.” She cried all night.

---------------------------

She hadn’t seen him for a full week, the both of them going out of their way to avoid each other. She didn’t want it to be this way but it was better. She didn’t want to cry every time she saw him.

He hadn’t brought anyone home and she was more grateful than she could ever say, but she knew it would happen again soon. He was a good looking man and if the noises she heard were anything to go by, he was a good lay.

That’s what she needed. She needed to get laid. That would help her stop obsessing over her stupidly hot neighbour who didn’t want her. It was childish but she got a sick thrill at having him be the one to hear her for once, although a little part of her whispered that he wouldn’t care. He’d probably be relieved. Wouldn’t have her pining over him so obviously.

She wanted to turn heads tonight. She went with a skintight dress that showed off her curves, some of her most expensive, sheer intimates. She wanted a visceral reaction from whoever she decided to bring home. She wanted Javier to know other men desired her even if he didn’t.

She were so confident leaving the apartment in her ‘come fuck me’ heels and a leather bomber jacket, a stark contrast to how she felt now. She’d been at the local bar for an hour, her feet were sore, her hair more frizzy than anything else and there was no one she wanted to take home. To make matters worse, Javi was standing at the other end of the bar, ignoring a woman who quite obviously had her eye on him.

There was a broad man in front of her- very attractive, he was speaking to her but she could barely hear him.

“Sorry what?” She leaned in close to him, he smelled great. He brought his mouth to her ear. His voice was deep and soothing, in another life she would have lost her mind over this man. He was tall and strong, his eyes a crystal clear blue. He reminded you of a prince, his blonde hair thick. This will do nicely.

“I said - can I buy you a drink?” He flashed a movie star smile at her and she could feel Javi’s eyes burning into her. She ignored him.

“Only if you let me buy you one after.” She smiled sweetly at him, moving closer to him. He was very attractive and this was exactly what she needed. She chanced a glance back at Javi and saw he was scowling at her. That really pissed her off, how dare he give her that look? It should be you, she thought.

Her mystery man introduced himself as Will, an obvious tourist and she flirted with him the whole night. It made her feel guilty that he was actually nice, he was charming and he made no attempt to hide his attraction to her. His hand had found her waist and was slowly but steadily making it’s way south.

She felt Javi’s eyes on her the whole night - it was making her bolder and she pressed herself up against Will, flirting with him shamelessly. He would whisper things into her ear - tell her how hot she was, how he was attracted to her. He bought her another drink and they chatted idly. All smiles and bold statements. Eventually Will finally got brave and pulled her towards him as he sat on a bar stool. Looking up at her with desire clear on his face.

She let him, standing between his legs placing her hands on his broad shoulders. He tipped his face up at her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and kissed her. It was a good kiss all things considered.

It wasn’t Javi.

It would have to do however as she once again reminded herself that if Javi wanted her, he would have had her.

“Want to get out of here?” She held Will's face in her hands and he nodded eagerly. When she looked up, Javi was gone.

Will gave her exactly what she needed. It started out a little rocky while the two of them found their rhythm but in the end he had her moaning for real and after they’d both reached their peak she felt lighter.

“That was really good, I had a great time.” He was up and getting dressed. “Maybe we could do that again before I leave?” Oh thank Christ she thought, she was glad he wasn’t expecting to stay over.

“Yeah I’d like that- I had a great time too.” She answered honestly.

She walked him to the door wearing just a tshirt and he kissed her sweetly before he slipped out. The note with his phone number was left on the counter.

—————————-

It had been a couple of days since her night with Will, and she hadn’t called him back yet.

Javi came out onto the fire escape to find her sitting there smoking. She said nothing to him.

“I see what you mean about the walls being paper thin, I heard everything the other night.” His voice was serious and she thought she detected some anger there. She told herself she was imagining it.

“Did he make you cum? Or did you fake it?” He gave her a hard stare. The blood rushed to her face and she wanted to slap him for that.

“Why? Can’t tell the difference? Not that it’s absolutely any of your fucking business, but yes - he made me cum.” She was incensed. How dare he ask that? She stubbed out her smoke angrily, the blood rushing to her face, boiling in her veins.

“I’m jealous.” He was serious.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Unbelievable.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for days, maybe explain why I didn’t fuck you-“ She cut him off.

“Waiting outside to corner me after work isn’t trying to talk to me. Bringing another girl over to fuck and then apologizing for the noise isn’t explaining anything. I put myself out there for you, maybe I shouldn’t have. I can live with that, I can live with you telling me you’re not attracted or being the kind of guy that doesn’t shit where he eats. You want to be friends? Fine. Friends don’t get jealous. You do not get to say anything about who I fuck.” She was shaking. The anger was threatening to drown her in its violence. The nerve of him, he didn’t want her, but no one else could have her either?

“I don’t know what I thought, I thought pushing you away was a good idea. I could see that you were attracted to me and I didn’t want to see that look of want turn into disgust. Not from you, I couldn’t handle it if you hated me.” He was angry too, but at himself. She let him continue.

“I shouldn’t have brought that girl over the other day, I regretted it as it was happening but it’s how I cope with things. The women I meet and I use each other, for companionship, or intel for work. We know what we’re getting into. You don’t look at me like they do, and I don’t want you to. When I saw that guy talking to you it felt like someone shot me, I was so angry and jealous it scared me. Hearing you with him was worse.” He was looking at her the same way he had the night she tried to kiss him.

“How do you want me to look at you?” She was still so angry, it took him seeing her with someone else to realize he wanted her? Men.

“I want you to look at me the way I look at you.” He came a little closer and her heart leapt. She didn’t think she could handle this right now.

“Do you want me? Or just the attention I gave you? If the only reason you’re saying all this is because it pissed you off that I slept with someone else, then you can forget it. I’m not just a toy you refuse to share.” She stood her ground.

“It should have been me, not him. It should have been me in your bed, me in between your legs.” He tentatively brought his hand up to cup her face. She slapped him across the face. The clap rang out like a gunshot. The anger was heavy in her stomach and she couldn’t believe his audacity. Even worse was her body’s reaction to him. Her nipples tightened in excitement and a wave of slick pooled in her panties at his words. He looked down at her with a dark intensity.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me to go back into my apartment and to leave you alone.” He closed the gap with a hand roughly grabbing at her waist. Bunching the fabric of her shirt in his hands- holding her tight to him.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Her skin was on fire where he touched her, his breath igniting her and it made her so angry. She was wetter than she’d ever been and she hated that she wanted him so bad.

His kiss was bruising. His hands were a vice grip at her waist, pulling her closer to him, she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her defences. She was leaking into her underwear as he roughly grabbed at her ass.

“Tell me to stop, if I fucked up too bad and you don’t want me anymore…” he kissed at her neck, his hands travelling up her back. She pushed him away momentarily and the look that came over him threatened to break her heart. He kind of deserved it.

She pulled him into her apartment and any reservations he had before were gone.

He pulled off his shirt and hers and pulled her onto his lap on her bed, his hands on her thighs the same way as the night he rejected her. He sensed her reliving it and he brought his hands to her face. He kissed her softly, trying to rewrite the memory in her mind.

This is what should have happened the kiss said.

He trailed his kisses down, to her chin, her neck, her chest. He spoke after each one.

I’m sorry, forgive me, I’m sorry

She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her sternum, as he licked her nipples, as he nuzzled into her skin.

It felt so good, it felt like she was weightless. It felt like if she didn’t cling onto him she would float away.

She kissed him again, wanting to breathe him into her and he was determined to let her. He was going to show her how much he cared about her, how badly he’d wanted her all these months.

She was biting at her lip, eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed at the meat of her ass, her core pressed against the thick pillar of his sex. Her pert nipple in his mouth and he thought about all the times he’d imagined tasting them when they sat outside. A cool breeze hardening them through her soft sleep shirt as they smoked and laughed.

“Javiersito…” Her nickname for him came out as a whimper and it made his cock throb.

“Dime mi reina, dime lo que quieres.” [Tell me my queen, tell me what you want.]

She moaned, pulling his face up to kiss him as she ground herself against him.

“Just you.” She felt so vulnerable, so open and soft for him and he paused, his warm hand brushing away the soft waves from her face to place soft kisses at her forehead, her eyes, her mouth.

She let him flip her over, let him settle in between her legs to press his mouth to hers, and his kisses fanned the flames already burning inside her for him. She could barely focus, her mind urged her to do all of the little things she’d daydreamed about doing ever since that first day. She ran her fingers through his hair, brought her hand to his face to brush her thumb across his plush bottom lip. She smiled as she scratched her nails lovingly down his back and it deepened when he groaned at the feel of it.

She lifted her hips when he pulled at her panties, a smile of his own lighting up his face to find her wet and glossy for him and despite all of the longing, all of the pining for him she felt shy.

She knew he could see the flush blooming on her chest and in the apples of her cheeks. She knew he could feel the slight tremble in the soft skin of her belly - had to feel it even more then he kissed just below her belly button. When he wrapped her long legs around his neck.

She watched as he trailed his kisses down, her bottom lip in between her teeth in anticipation until he finally reached the crux of her. It was then Yami understood that the noises she’d been hearing were real and it annoyed her slightly to think of those women now. He must have sensed her, felt her tense up because his big hands were caressing her wherever he could reach. Her belly, her thighs, her hips - her breasts. He coaxed her out of her mind, dipping into her to gather more wetness, to taste her and he couldn’t help but groan, to rut into his jeans on her mattress.

His fingers breached her and with the perfect glide of his tongue against her clit; the orgasm hit her almost by surprise. He had made her ache with the arousal and the temporary relief was just that, temporary. The look he had on his face as he drank in her pleasure skyrocketed her back to that needy place she’d been in just before; she knew that the force she used to pull him up would leave marks but neither of them cared. They couldn’t. Not when she all but ripped his jeans down his legs. Not when his cock was this hard, not when he slipped into her wet heat.

A mutual groan fills the dark apartment, the sound of relief. Of longing, of the hours spent yearning for him to fill her this way. To fill her heart, her space, her cunt.

He felt better than she ever imagined he did on those lonely nights and she almost laughed with the euphoria of it, her ankles locking on his lower back.

“You feel so fucking good querida, fuck - I’m not going to last..” His face was pressed into the crook of her neck, his hips a steady stroke and right then she wanted him to cum so badly it almost hurt. He leaned his weight on one arm and reached down to draw dizzying little circles onto her clit - taking another orgasm from her before giving her his own.

“Fuck Javi - yes, please, cum inside..” She breathed the words into his mouth as her body clenched around him and he couldn’t hold out anymore. His thrusts turned into a grind as he seized up.

He lit a cigarette for her before lighting one for him and they laughed and talked just like before, only this time, they were in her bed.

---------

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[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

I assure you, I did NOT intend for there to be such a long hiatus since the last update! Life got ridiculous for a while. Hopefully this massive chapter makes up for the wait!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 26,000+

Summary: While Javier's work spins up, preoccupying him, you try to keep your worries after several perplexing occurrences from towing you down into uncertainty. Can you both keep each other feeling grounded and deserving of the hopes you both care to nurture together?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, sickness, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, family strife, foreboding threats, and uncertainty. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Bossy!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 43: Still

Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Since the 1980s, Puerto Rico had grown into a major gateway to the U.S. for South American drugs. Within the first few years of the early 1990s, though, the small archipelago and U.S. territory functioned as the Caribbean's drug-smuggling hub. The administration in Washington D.C. ranked Puerto Rico and the nearby U.S. Virgin Islands as second to Mexico, in being a corridor for drugs coming into the United States.

With stats like that, and a precarious rise in violence and social ills associated with the drug trade and trafficking on the island, it was no wonder that the federal government had established a larger footprint in the region, encouraged especially by the Partido Nuevo Progresista being the current party in power. The Puerto Rican governor, Pedro Roselló, was a pro-statehood politician who'd been voted into power with lofty promises of curbing the waves of crime and violence, and collaborating with the federal government to get aid and better opportunities for private industry to the island of 3.6 million people.

His Mano Dura initiative was one that will be studied for decades to come. Beginning as a zero-tolerance policy program to combat crime, that some say had the opposite effect when it came to bettering the social standing of the working and poor classes on the island. It included the enactment of policies that increased sentencing periods, reduced rehab-focused initiatives for criminal offenders and promoted aggressive, more proactive – and often invasive – policing tactics. Public safety was touted as the preeminent concern – borne out of the fear and public frustrations across all facets of Puerto Rican society regarding the skyrocketing incidences of carjackings, hold ups, drive-by shootings, and murders fueled by the drug trade.

For all the militarized tactics, most glaring being the use of the National Guard to infiltrate and police public housing and high-crime neighborhoods throughout the metropolitan municipalities on the island, the murder rate only kept rising.

Javier had poured over the data, and saw how crime had exploded on the island as soon as it became a hub for drug trafficking into the U.S. and Europe. It used to be that robberies and the occasional assault were the worst crimes in most towns on the island. But just the year prior, there were 980 homicides on the island, setting a record – with one of the worst massacres reported occurring in a small town west of San Juan. More than 60 percent of the killings were drug-related. And drug-related violence was only getting more pervasive – indiscriminate of victims or the collateral damage.

Needless to say, Javi was done with the crash course phase of things, and wanted to really wrap his arms around the facts at hand. Sadly, the murder and mayhem had no face – no figurehead to pin the wave of crime on, so he was left to pull at threads in the stats and data to try and find the source. Of course, though, he and Steve had their mandate: stopping the flow of drugs, especially of the 10 to 20 percent that ended up remaining in the island for local consumption, creating a criminal industry that smuggles and stores the product, launders money, operates the retail puntos and foments the violence to prevail over competitors. Well, at least that was Javi's goal, since stopping the all-out flow of drugs into the U.S. was a fool's errand.

Getting the DEA running without being as heavy-handed as the National Guard patrolling known points had been difficult in the past, but he and Steve had come up with different tactics and enforcement plans. Organizing everyone, and getting them the necessary training, and into the field office was their current hurdle, one that kept both agents busy.

Working to get the field office set up, splitting travel to and from the U.S. Virgin Islands, being briefed on joint task force operations, and dealing with federal officials assessing their budgetary requests had been occupying a lot of their time. There just aren't many moments for either of them to concentrate on non-DEA-related things longer than the cursory conversations or plans you and Connie make for dinner hangouts, surface 'how was your day' chats, or simply wanting to be in the moment when intimacy was possible. So, having the intuition to ask 'what is wrong?' wasn't in the cards currently.

You commiserate with Connie about it. Between the two of you, though, you don't feel like you have any concerns – you don't feel neglected or burdened. After all, she's the one juggling a full-time job at the V.A., taking care of Isabel and Olivia, and fitting in time to tend to the house. If anything, you feel pretty centered, compared to how things had been before reconciling with Javier.

It's all perspective, and you are a great sounding board for Connie as much as she's a reassuring voice of reason – and a fount of knowledge for living with a stubborn DEA agent.

Really, you enjoy having someone who understands what it's like to be in love with a tenacious, committed and selfless man who throws himself into his work head first, then thinks about the toll that takes much later. As far as you're concerned, it all is put into perspective. So not telling Javier – or anyone – about the threatening note you'd received via a pink carnation bouquet delivery to your condo building, makes perfect sense to you.

Sure, you'd rushed down and asked the attendant specifics – 'Who delivered it? Did they mention the sender at all? Are you sure it was meant for my apartment?' – and gotten no answers or evidence that would help identify the culprit, let alone a means to track possible suspects, had unnerved you. But you just didn't think it was anything worth mentioning to Javier. You didn't want to alarm him when you weren't really sure it was even meant for you or not. No, it didn't seem credible enough to set off unnecessary stress and panic. So, you didn't.

You'd thrown the flowers out, and stored the card into the drawer of the console in the living room.

When Javier had spent the night at your place the following evening, you'd already shoved it to the back of your mind.

He was none the wiser, and you'd enjoyed relaxing with him in bed after stripping each other of your clothes and making passionate love while the air conditioning kept your warm bodies and the room cool.

He'd been beat from work, so much so he'd practically fallen asleep in mid-sentence about his hectic day.

Things for your department were equally busy the next couple of weeks as well with a major server expansion across departments and agencies occurring in stages, so you held no umbrage at the juggling of free time happening, since you were also focusing on your work projects.

The nights he'd work late, you were content with a quick 'goodnight' call and making plans to have a coffee, or lunch date some time the next day. Whenever you both ended up being at the office after hours, due to working late, Javier and you would carpool together in your sleek sedan to his place to spend the night together, and he'd catch a ride the following morning with Kike either to the field office or some task force meeting at the Federal Court Building.

And dinner with the Murphys had seamlessly become a once-a-week routine during this period as well, which was much-needed for blowing off steam and socializing outside of work.

This week's dinner was Saturday night, and it had been wonderful, but not without a lot of chatter between Steve and Javier regarding the drudgery still to come. During this kind of shop-talk lulls, you and Connie would exchange musing looks before leaving the fellas to it, preferring to entertain Olivia and the baby over idle chatter. This time, the precocious girl had made you both come to her room so she could show off the drawings she'd done at school and play with her favorite toy of the week before she had to get in her pjs and get tucked in.

You didn't mind it at all, and Isabel was a sweet baby that always seemed to enjoy your silly muecas and bouncing on your knee.

Javi was apologizing now, on the walk home back to his bungalow, for being so preoccupied, but you reassure him that it didn't bother you.

"—I know how much of a hassle it is to deal with all this stuff, babe. I'm just glad you and Steve have each other, this time," is your understanding retort. "And anyway, you two will make it up to us eventually."

"Oh, yeah?" he drawls, arm around your waist giving you a cheeky squeeze. "Have anything in mind already?"

"Actually, yeah. Earlier today, Connie, Anita and I talked about maybe doing a trip – all of us couples together," you retort simply and slip your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "We could rent a house close to the beach and go for a long weekend."

Pleased, Javi hums, "Sure. I like that plan. Could be fun."

You conceded that you were sure it was a ways-away out, and while you both walk around the corner, keeping to the sidewalk, you muse, "All the Mano Dura stuff is really only revving up too, so I can imagine you're both going to be juggling that as well."

Unintentionally veering him back onto the work topic, Javier ends up talking through his thought process and concerns the rest of the walk to his place. By the time he's unlocking the door and chivalrously holding it open for you, Javi is really on a roll.

"—Once we get things settled, and the extra funding we asked for the field op teams comes in, we'll be able to take a backseat and let our ASACs manage," Javier is remarking as you enter through the entry door through the laundry room before him, allowing him to close and lock it behind himself. "It's time for Segarra to sink or swim, and Steve's guy seems more than capable to handle his end, so we should be finally able to focus on big-picture work. Really, we shouldn't have been doing so much shit ourselves up to this point, especially since we're supposed to be the bosses—"

He's just loped into the main living space and placed his keys onto the counter when his verbal train of thought halts after turning towards the living room. Well, specifically at the sight of you pulling your flouncy pale blue and green floral-patterned bohemian dress off and tossing it onto the chair adjacent the couch before toeing off your favorite leather flats and look over at him alluringly.

You're only in a thin nude lace bra and tanga-style panty now, already undoing the front closure as you brazenly suggest, "Why don't you come over here and show me who's boss, querido?"

It's hot, and oh-so-naughty how you can spin his lust up in a nanosecond and have him simmering with incandescent urge, especially with this kind of taunt delivered as an appeal for him to dominate you. And the sultry smile in your eyes as you shed your bra and toss it over at him to land on his shoulder, for good measure? Proceeded by the spritely way you fold your arms behind yourself and jut your bare breasts out proudly at him?

Rapacious desire ignites in his gut and has him rushing over to sweep you up into his arms. A delighted squeal bubbles out of you as he carries you to bed, making you laugh infectiously from his nippy nuzzling – impishly grazing his moustache along your neck and collarbone before he tosses you onto the soft surface. You bounce and giggle as you prop up onto your elbows to bat your lashes sultrily at him.

"You wanna get bossed around, do you?" he rumbles in a velvety tone as he takes his boots off and quickly divests of his belongings before unbuckling his belt and showily yanking his dark blue and white vertical pinstriped shirt – the one you love because it clings to his shoulders and pecs perfectly and accentuates his muscled biceps deliciously – out of his jeans waistband before swiftly beginning to undo the top three buttons.

Giving him a salacious smirk, you purr, "Mmhmm, that's right, mi patrón—"

"Fuck…" he eyes you with that smoldering, chiseled regard that always makes you tingly, before he growls, "Take those panties off right now, then, you little tease," as he deftly works the rest of the buttons undone and shrugs out of the shirt before pausing at plucking the button on his jeans when you defiantly remain sat up on your elbows and do not strip your underwear off as he'd ordered. Raising a challenging brow at you, he puts his hands on his hips and grumbles, "Are you really going to defy me, malcriada?"

You give him a mischievous grin and lilt, "Maybe?"

He grunts, giving you a snarky look as he leans over and yanks you down to the end of the bed by your ankles. Your squeal of surprise and the way you bite your lower lip makes him smirk before roguishly husking, "Do I need to tear them off of you and bend you over my knee for a spanking, traviesa?"

"I really like these, so no – no tearing, please," you chime as you draw your knees up and plant your soles flat to the bed, splaying your legs wide open as you toy with the waistband suggestively while his gaze hones in on the damp spot your arousal has soaked into the crotch of your panties.

The way he flicks his dark brewed eyes up at you sends an excited tickle up your spine and makes your pussy throb when he stares assertively at you before ordering, "Take them off, and show me what's mine."

Arousal pulses at your center at his command, and heat zings along your nerve endings to harden your nipples while anticipation flutters in your tummy as you slowly work your panties down and off. You discard them to the floor and lay back so you can spread your legs open and caress your hands along your thighs.

Javi hums in approval, and you expect him to finish undressing and have his way with you, but instead his smoldering gaze intensifies as he keeps his hands at his sides and murmurs gruffly, "I told you to show me what's mine, tentadora."

Your breath skitters excitedly, and Javi's gaze holds yours before admiringly returning to your cunt, now flushed with arousal. The desire he stokes in you has your seam slick and clitoris thrumming with need. He doesn't have to elaborate what he means, and seeing as you started this little game, you're aching to have him, and are tantalized by him flexing his dominance.

Breathily, you part your legs more and glide your hands down to touch yourself, slick dampening your folds as you run your fingers down and part them like dewy petals. You use the fingers of one hand to spread yourself open while the eager digits of the other dip into your aching pussy wetly before tracing back up to rub delicious pressure over your thrumming clitoris.

The sight of you pleasuring yourself has Javi throbbing wantonly in the confines of his jeans, but he keeps his now clenched hands at his sides as you whimper impatiently for his touch.

"Javi—please," you whine, your touch not enough, and desire making you needy for him to be naked and pressed against you.

He doesn't budge, even when you arch your hips up slightly and squeeze your bare breasts together. No, he wants to hear the magic words before he continues stripping.

"Please…what?"

Your blush sears the apples of your cheeks and you bite your bottom lip hard before exhaling a frustrated huff.

"Please, take what's yours," you beg, slick fingers gliding through your damp sex before you caress your palms up to your apex, as you murmur, "Give me what you want, mi amor."

He feels that rapacious urge scorch up in him at your needy words, and with how you butterfly your thighs open to show him how soaked your pussy is now, Javier can't keep his controlling façade up – not with how quickly his hands move to undo the button of his jeans and zip down his fly before slipping his thumbs into the waistbands of both the denim and his cotton underwear to yank them both in one swoop down.

Watching him strip makes you smile. He catches it when he stands from shedding the last of his clothes and tossing them in a pile by the dresser.

"Hm, take what's mine, eh?" he drawls in that honeyed baritone that makes delight tickle in your core, especially when he stands with his hard cock to loom over you, like he's contemplating what to do to you first.

All you can do to not grin up at him is to nod as demurely as you can muster as you hum, "Mmhmm."

With a shameless smile, Javi suddenly scoops you up and prowls onto the bed with you squealing a silly sound as he stays propped up on his knees so you're only recourse is to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders.

He loves how mirth lights your eyes while your expression quirks with delight against your will – how your pursing lips can't fight back the smile tugging them up, so with a faux-admonishing cluck of his tongue, Javi coos, "Why am I getting the distinct impression that you're really giving me what you want, and not the other way around, hmm?"

You snicker and daringly buck against him so he has to catch his balance by propping his arm sidelong, which allows you to use the momentum to topple him onto the bed so you can playfully roughhouse with him for dominance, as you chime seductively, "Because that's exactly the case, mi patroncito. It gets me hot when you get all bossy—"

"Oh yeah?" Javier croons as he easily pivots you both so you're on your back and his big hands have cuffed your wrists and pressed them down on either side of your head. The weight of him crowding you makes you shiver, and the exquisite heft of his cock nestled flush against your crotch makes you mewl involuntarily.

"Yes," you admit airily and smile when his soulful eyes crinkle affectionately at you, full lips pursing out cockily. Deciding to pluck at a naughty string in him, you purr, "And it makes me ache for your cock when you think you can command me, bebito."

That has Javier giving you that incandescent look just as he steals your breath with a voracious kiss. Your arousal hazes your mind just as his hand moves to cuff your wrists together above your head while the other possessively cups your cunt and grinds your clit with the pad of his thumb. Hips bucking at the contact, you mewl into his mouth when his tongue plunders it while you arch up into his warm, muscled torso.

Your brain is swimming in the pleasure of Javi dominating the hell out of you, so much so that you don't even feel shame when he breaks the kiss and leaves you gasping from the sudden thwack of his deft fingers wrapping around his cock and tapping it lewdly onto your drenched pussy in a very lascivious show of dominance.

"When I think I can command you?" is Javier's gruff croon, dark brewed eyes molten with conviction as he makes his point again by gliding just the head of his cock through your folds before guiding it to slap wetly against your mound, deviously close to the hood of your clit.

You moan and writhe at the electrifying contact, so Javi purrs, "I think the ache you got for my cock has you forgetting who the boss is, querida. I'm gonna need you to use your words and beg for it, or else I'll just give you everything but my cock tonight."

Your skin is scalding from how crass-yet-authoritative he's being with you, winding your lust up into a tangle of desires that has you vibrating with arousal and pulsing with debauched delight.

"Please, mi amor—give it to me. Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya—will do whatever you command, just let me have it," you ramble with needy allure, eyes shimmering with how earnestly you're begging for him not to deny you the pleasure only he can give you.

Pleased beyond belief, Javi caresses his hand up to cup your chin to ground you to focus on his smoldering stare as he leans forward and husks, "Good girl," before kissing you chastely on the lips.

He lets you wrap your arms around his torso as he settles between your thighs and rolls his hips with delectable prowess to drive his cock into your pulsing sheath.

It feels so amazing to have him fuck into you – to stretch you open onto his thick, throbbing cock with every thrust, especially after all the foreplay and dirty talk. This feeling of passionate ecstasy always fills you, and the way you cling to Javi with every desperate stroke of him into you tethers him into being both grounded and alight. Nothing matters when you're both spun up like this, except for the ruinous euphoria you each feel build and build as the lovemaking crescendos.

There's nothing more gratifying to his pride than when you climax, going molten around his cock and frantic in his arms to cling to the sensations he's unleashed in you. You're so wild from the throes of pleasure that you muffle your sobbed moan into his neck before ferally suckling a greedy bite into the delectable spot.

"Fuck," Javier groans and feels his thoughts melt as his orgasm barrels loose from the knot of pleasure in his apex and has him clutching your waist as he pounds his cock into you before his thrusts stutter in rhythm and his release empties into your fluttering sheath.

Your toes curl at the sensation of his climax filling that deep, tender part of you only he can reach, leveling you to fall apart in his arms as all the strength dissolves in your body.

The warm and fuzzy heat of post-coital relief has you uncaring that you're warm, slick and sweaty under Javier while he lies on top of you in a spent heap.

"Eres pinche gloriosa," is Javi's husky, albeit drowsy praise as he props himself up on a shaky elbow before laboriously rolling off of you with an exhausted grunt.

All you can muster is an affectionate nudge of your forehead into his shoulder before Javi rumbles something wordlessly and encircles his arm to your waist in order to pull you to sidle against him.

The cool air from the undulating ceiling fan caressing your dewy forms helps lull you into a calm repose, where only Javier's warm skin and heady scent occupy your attention, until he nuzzles the top of your hairline and presses a kiss there.

"You feel good, querida?"

"Feel divine, chavón," you sigh, kissing his collarbone before you murmur, "I love you."

He exhales an approving grunt before patting your thigh encouragingly for you to tilt your face up to him. When you do, he caresses your cheek and swipes his thumb to wipe away at the perspiration that beaded along the edge of your orbital bone.

"I love you too, corazón."

Dreamily, you smile up at him unselfconsciously. Your eyes are glossy, lashes damp and lids heavy, so Javi curls his fingers to crook under your chin so he can admire your flushed features before he peppers soft kisses along your warm skin. You are content to simply bask in his doting grace.

Eventually, when you regain your wits and start to fidget, Javier gets out of bed to retrieve a damp washcloth and returns to give you his loving aftercare. And when he pulls the covers back for you to be tucked under them, you hold onto his forearm and tug him to slide in after you rather than be apart from him the few seconds it would've taken him to round the bed to his side and climb in.

Feeling too accomplished to care that you're in the spot closer to the doorway than he'd normally like, Javi stretches out next to you and happily lets you lounge curled up against him, with your head on his shoulder and hand caressing languidly along his chest.

"So…at the risk of sounding clingy, I'm really going to miss you," you find yourself volunteering in a murmur, already frowning at yourself as you amend it by rationalizing softly, "I mean, the other trips were much shorter—"

Javi cups your jaw and makes you melt when he kisses you, snuffing the insecure ramble before it could start.

Resting his forehead to yours, he sighs, "I know, since I feel the same way," before stating flatly, "It's gonna be a lot of meetings. Hell, all the damn travel from island to island will be the worst of it. Not to mention all the political jockeying and face-to-face conferences with officials. Wish I could just delegate it to someone else."

You pout, seeing the weariness in the corners of his eyes, so you sit up and caress your touch over his brow, murmuring as you trace your fingertips over his forehead, "Those are the pitfalls of being the boss man, hermoso."

He exhales deeply out his nose and closes his eyes, letting you soothe him with your affectionate touch before he mumbles, "I'm going to miss you so much, it's ridiculous."

When he opens his eyes again, he relaxes visibly when you lean forward and kiss his full lips tenderly before playfully scratching into his unruly hair, while you lilt in a singsong, "You'll just have to be a good boy, get your work done, and hurry back so I can have my way with you."

His laugh is warm and raspy as he loops his arms around you to roll down into the pillows together so he can shower you with ticklish, moustache-grazing kisses to your cheeks, jaw and neck while you giggle and try to fend him off by tickling his sides.

After you both settle down in the warm bed together for the night, Javier conks right out, breathing deep and calmly on his back while you're snuggled at his side, with your head on his chest. The quiet of the room and the undulating breeze coming from the curtain-covered windows helps your mind wander for a bit, still charged with wayward thoughts. The ones that keep looping back for consideration revolve around Javier unperturbedly falling back into the chase – of being hungry for the hunt. He couldn't seem to quit the DEA for good, let alone sit back and relax in his position of authority. You remember his promises, both from when he was a field agent and when he was the Special Agent in-Charge in Bogotá. How he'd been unable to keep any of them, no matter how hard he tried.

And now here you are, recalling the ones he'd made to you when he'd begged for another chance.

"I came here for you."

He'd professed coming to Puerto Rico to be with you. That he didn't give a damn about the job, and if you wanted, he'd quit. How he'd do whatever necessary to earn your trust. That all that mattered to him, was you.

You don't want him to quit, or to not give a damn about his work. But you'd be lying if you weren't worried that old habits were intent to die hard when it came to him getting swept up in the politicking and the disappointment – that he would fall prey again to the corrupt jockeying and manipulation of compromised leaders, both here and stateside.

Still…in your heart, you felt things were different, and didn't want to give up the peace of being with him, on both your own terms.

"Everything we wanted is still possible…I want it all, with you…"

An effervescent palpitation has your heart skipping a beat at the echo of his words, and you feel centered.

With a smile, you close your eyes and let the strong thrum of his heartbeat help lull you into sleep.

Early the next morning, you wake up to Javi sitting on the foot of the bed with a cup of coffee he's nursing while in only a pair of blue-striped pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. From how his shoulders are slumped, you can tell he's half asleep, so you maneuver up to crawl over to him in order to slink up against his bare back. He grunts sleepily and takes a deep inhale before reaching his free hand backwards to hold you while you loop your arms around his midriff and kiss the nape of his neck.

"Want me to make you something to eat?" you whisper as you nuzzle the side of his head when he tilts it back and leans more into you.

"I'd rather have you," he tells you unabashedly as he turns to kiss you softly on the lips.

You hum into his coffee-flavored mouth before leaning back to sassily pet your hand over his tousled hair as you order, "You're going to have both, and you're going to like it, guapito."

Javier has no objection to that.

You both get in the shower together, have a great quickie under the hot water and against the warm tiles, and let the water rinse over your sated forms of the soap and sinfulness.

When you get back to the bedroom, you dry off and lie in bed to relish the little time you have left until Kike pulls up to get Javi before swinging over to Steve's.

Skin to skin, you savor his kisses and lovingly cuddle him, knowing how lonely – and empty your bed – going so long without him will be. Javier feels the longing building up in him already, and all he wants to do is get lost in this sensual moment, even though he doesn't have the time for it. You know it too, and prolong it for as long as you can.

It's only when you insistingly nudge him to start getting ready a few minutes later, that Javi begrudgingly goes to his dresser to grab his clothes. His things were already packed and waiting in the laundry room, thanks to you having surprised him with a respectable suitcase you'd purchased earlier the day before. When he'd come home from the gym and met you at his driveway after you'd dropped off Connie, Javi had been curious about the sleek piece of luggage as you carried it to his bedroom. You'd opened it as you'd razzed him about needing to level up from his well-traveled duffle bag, and had proceeded to iron an arrangement of suits and shirts for him. He'd been more than happy to enjoy your domestic doting, and had smirked when you'd shooed him away into the shower so you could continue picking out the ties and other garments he'd need.

Right now, though, he doesn't feel the need to rush to get ready, even when you're done pulling on your jeans and are tugging your shirt down as you head for the kitchen.

By the time he trudges down the back hall into the main room, dressed in dark blue jeans and a nice white button-down shirt with a breast pocket his aviators are currently folded in, you have a generous breakfast sandwich and a refreshed cup of coffee waiting for him at the kitchen's bar top.

His stomach growls, spiting him, and you smirk as he sits at the stool and eats with gusto while eyeing you ruefully.

"You know, you're cute when you're grumpy," you can't help tease as you lean into the counter, opposite him.

Polishing off his meal, he quickly dabs at his mouth with the napkin before picking the dishes up and rounding the countertop, deliberately breezing by you to place them in the sink, as he gripes, "We had enough time to fool around some more, and you shot me down."

You scoff irreverently before whirling around just in time to catch him off guard and press him back against the sink's counter. Hands boxing him in so you can lean into him commandingly, you bossily tell him, "Javier Peña, you better not be getting surly with me before you're about to leave for over a week. You know how much I want to roll around naked in bed with you. Now quit being a brat, and give me a kiss."

He can't even stay surly, not at that, or the sultry look you're giving him.

His lips quirk into a smirk while he lets his moodiness out in a huff through his nose, then leans in to kiss you obediently on the mouth.

You suck on his bottom lip before grazing your teeth on the plump morsel, enjoying how he gasps excitedly and grips your waist as you pull back and imperiously smile up at his flushed expression.

Just as you're deliberating whether you can get away with kissing on him some more, you hear Kike pull up in the SUV outside, so you sigh and wrap your arms around him for a fortifying hug.

Once you've taken care of the remaining dishes and Javier's disposed of the garbage in the receptacle outside for trash pickup, you go to the bedroom to retrieve your scrunchie in order to swiftly put your hair up.

Javi's booted footfalls over the tiled floor approach from the hall just before he comes in and wraps his arms around you from behind. Exhaling, he kisses the top of your head before asking, "You're still spending the day with your dad?"

You nod, leaning into him before affectionately turning in his embrace and nuzzling his neck, humming before reluctantly stepping back so you can both exit back to the living room. "Yeah. He's going to D.C. for a while, so I was going to go food shopping and make dinner at his place," you remark and sigh whilst putting your hair in a ponytail.

He ogles your neck, and considers delaying leaving by pulling you against him so he can kiss from your jaw down the column of delicate skin. To nip a matching hickey like the one you left on him, and feel you shiver and cling to him. But you're hustling to get your shoes on and grab your purse, so he stows his raunchy desires and gets his keys, cellular phone, and wallet.

"That sounds nice," Javi muses, making you smile when his hand caresses your lower back as he escorts you through the laundry room, grabbing his suitcase and opening the door for you. "No Camille?"

"Nope, thankfully," you retort and watch as he locks up before smiling when he turns and quirks a derisive brow at you. "It's for both their benefits! I cannot stand her, and she has finally learned her place, is all," you insist, and Javi nods judiciously at your rationale while he takes your hand and escorts you out of the marquesina to lope over to the front curb where Kike is parked.

"Well, it sounds like it'll be a better time spent than what I'll be doing," is his deadpan before approaching the driver's side window that's rolled down, patting the frame to get the young officer's attention from the local tabloid magazine he's engrossed in, as he greets, "Morning, Kike!"

"Good morning, sir!" the jovial plainclothes officer retorts warmly before hastily folding up the magazine and stowing it in the door's cubby, then waves while greeting, "And good morning, Ms. Celina—"

"Ay, Kike. Just call me Celina," you razz him as you lean up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek through the open window. "Deja con las formalidades, ya," is your amused order.

"Okay-okay, se me olvidó," he chuckles as Javier opens the backseat door and places his suitcase in. "Did you like the mix tape?"

"Yeah, it had some cool tracks!" you retort and smile at Javi when he grunts and raises his brows curiously as he shuts the car door. "Kike gave me a mix tape with all the latest reggaetoneros that are hot right now."

"Ah," is his drawl as he loops your waist and pulls you close. "When are we going to perrear?"

"Javier!" you admonishingly hiss and swat his bicep haughtily, scoffing at his unabashed leer whilst Kike tries to hide his wry grin.

"Oh, that's right – you said when I take you to a club that actually plays reggaetón," he drawls as if you're talking about something innocuous, before he turns to Kike and remarks, "You'll have to tell me what the hot reggaetón clubs are so I can finally get her to dance perreo with me—"

"Alright, enough, beyako," you chastise sardonically and pinch his sides, grinning when Javier frowns at you using the naughty nickname in front of Kike, who is doing everything he can not to burst with a guffaw at his expense. You distract his umbrage by standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before lilting, "Pórtate bien, y llámame."

He smirks at being told 'Be good, and call me.'

"I will," he murmurs and kisses you amorously before cupping your cheek and muttering, "You behave too, now."

Snickering, you kiss his palm and pull him in for a hug.

Once Kike has turned the SUV around while Javier walked you to your car, you two lock lips one more time before you hop in and pull out of the driveway to the street. You wave at Javi in the rearview once you see him get into the front passenger seat, and then drive away to head to your early morning errands.

Javier watches your little sedan drive off before Kike pulls away to coax down the block and turn the corner en route for Steve's house. He already misses you, and finds himself scenting his collar for the whiff of your perfume that clings to it.

"I gotta warn you, sir. Ms. Celina is going to have cacos drooling after her when you take her to bailar perreo," Kike remarks musingly, causing Javi to arch a brow dubiously at him. "Ella es una mamita sabrocita – all eyes will be on her at any reggaetón club, is all I mean."

With a dry grunt, Javier furrows his brow amusedly. "Trust me. I'm very aware," is his dry mutter, before he sarcastically warns, "And do not let her hear you refer to her as a mamita. Speaking from experience, she will let you have it and you'll have whiplash."

"Claro que no," Kike snickers and shakes his head sagely. "She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa, so I would never pasarme así, sir. Definitely don't wanna offend her!"

Javier nods, picking up the gist of the slang-filled statement. After all, he's really had a run for his money in deciphering the bulk of the Puerto Rican slang Kike and Wilmer would fire off at each other in rapid conversation, and being out with you and witnessing your parrying of local colloquialisms you'd not used before in Colombia would often or not leave him inferring meanings, if not straight up asking you what a word meant.

Still, though, he'd heard bichote used to reference a drug dealer or criminal kingpin-type, so he had to ask, "¿Bichota?"

"Ah! Bichota as in a boss lady. A big shot woman – like, she's a cool, important lady," the younger officer explains as he pulls up to the front curb of the Murphy residence.

"I'm gonna need to find a 'Puerto Rican-isms' dictionary, for sure," Javier quips, smirking when the other man blows a raspberry and grunts in the affirmative.

He's not completely joking. Especially after the weeks of prep and briefs from undercover agents, who'd documented hours of audio recordings from dealers, traffickers, gatilleros and more throughout all their surveillance targets on the island. Thankfully Wilmer or Kike were always available to run questions by, and had been great helps to all local info for Javier and Steve.

The opening of the backseat door pulls Javi from his internal cataloguing. He turns to watch Steve chuck his suitcase in before climbing in and shutting the door while greeting, "Mornin', fellas. You been waiting long?"

"No, sir!" Kike assures as he pulls away from the curb once Steve's settled.

"Yeah, Kike here was just warning me about how I'll have to keep Celina close when I take her dancing here," Javier glibly jokes as he retrieves his aviators from his breast pocket and slips them on.

"Really? You do know Jav here is a real surly jealous type, right? So telling him something like that's only gonna get him stewing," Steve chuckles good naturedly as he leans forward to pat Javier's shoulder, and drawls, "We do not need a repeat of the Danvers incident, bud."

Javier scoffs and crosses his arms to keep his right hand from fidgeting with his exasperation at the mere reference. "Don't be an ass. That wasn't because I was jealous—"

"I'm sorry for mentioning it, sir," Kike genuinely offers as he drives, adding, "I didn't mean to sobrepasarme —"

With a reassuring pat of his shoulder, Javier assures, "Nah, you didn't. Don't worry. Murphy solo le gusta hablar mierda—"

"Hey, I don't talk shit," Steve interjects in a goading drawl.

"Oh, you're finally learning Spanish. Good for you, and about fuckin' time, hillbilly."

"Some of us are still capable of learning new things, pendejo. And do you kiss Celina with that filthy mouth?"

"She loves my filthy mouth. Maybe you should try it some time with your poor long-suffering wife—"

"Hey! My wife's off limits to your snarky remarks—"

"And Celina is off limits to your shit-talking commentary—"

"She ain't your wife yet, buddy. Once she is, then she's off limits."

Javier exhales testily and flips Steve the bird over his shoulder while glaring at the grinning blond in the rearview mirror. He arches his brow when Steve sits back and basks in having gotten the last word, or so he thinks.

"Look at him. Sitting so pleased with himself like he accomplished something," Javi deadpans to Kike in Spanish, who had managed to stifle his laughter during their juvenile back and forth. "Just loves to bust balls because his get busted at home."

Steve glowers at Javier's profile when Kike snorts amusedly at what he said, so he decides to prod his buddy some more. "Speaking of Celina," he drawls lyrically before remarking aloofly, "Wilmer told me he overheard Bozzi telling Vernon that she caught his eye."

That has the desired reaction.

Javier slowly turns around and tucks his chin down so he can glower at Steve over the rims of his sunglasses. "What?! When was this, and why are you only telling me now?" he grounds out from clenched jaw and tight lips.

Seeing the hickey barely concealed by Javier's shirt collar, he flicks his gaze up to see that dark fury start to fill his eyes, so, Steve dismisses, "Ah, because it ain't the first nor will it be the last time that anyone has the hots for your girl, Javi. No point in bringing it up—"

"Except to wind me up, you mean," Javi snaps back and huffily returns to sit facing forward in the front passenger seat.

"…All right, dick move on my part. I agree," Steve relents and busies himself with smoothening out the wrinkle in his green and white-striped polo shirt's collar.

"…What did Vernon respond to that asshole?" is the gravelly inquiry from Javier.

Steve looks at Javi's stare reflected in the rearview mirror before glancing at Kike, who's now just as invested in the gossip as Javi, so he exhales gruffly before answering, "Vernon told him something like, 'I'm pretty sure she's spoken for already. Or so go the rumors,' and Bozzi scoffed that there's no ring on her finger so she was fair game, as far as he was concerned."

That boils Javier's blood. But he only shows it with the hard etch of his scowling features and the way his biceps flex when he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

"Acho, que canto cabrón," Kike remarks indignantly, not even batting an eye when Javi looks over at him, surprised. "Ms. Celina would never like that guy, so he's a pendejo for saying shit like that."

Chuckling in agreement, Steve cosigns, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Javier cracks a lopsided smirk at that. He appreciates Kike being protective of you, and was glad when you both had struck up a platonic friendship after meeting when they'd picked you up from the dealership where you'd left your car to get serviced one morning. Since then, you would both chat buoyantly whenever you'd see each other and he'd given you his cell phone number in case you ever needed to get ahold of him if you couldn't reach Javier.

While he thinks about you the rest of the way they drive to the airport, you're leaving the video rental store now and hopping in your car to go spend the day with your father at his home.

You'd already stopped at the supermarket that carried Colombian food staples and picked up items for the meals you'd promised to make, so after a half hour drive to Dorado, you pulled into his driveway and parked across the open third-car garage. You confirmed with a quick peek as you rounded the car to get the groceries that Camille's luxury sedan wasn't in the garage, so with a relieved exhale, you retrieved the bag with the movie rentals and headed up to the front entrance.

The door was already open and your father was meeting you on the tiled front step to help you with the bags.

"How are you doing, tesoro?" he greets and kisses you on the cheek before taking the bags into the kitchen while you shut the door behind yourself before following.

"I'm good. How about you? Looking forward to going to D.C. for the big meeting?" is your retort.

He grunts wryly. "It's just a meeting. But I'll be there on lots of other business. What've you got there?"

At him gesturing to the bag in your hand, you reach into it and retrieve the three VHS rental movies and show him the stack so the labels are facing him. "I thought we could have a movie night. I haven't watched the third one yet."

The three movies are The Godfather, parts one through three.

Smiling broadly, your father is visibly pleased as he muses, "That'll take us the rest of the day to watch. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Well we have to rewatch the first two parts to be reminded of everything before going into part three. It can also play in the background while I cook, no?" is your affable reasoning as you place the movies on the coffee table in the living room before returning to the kitchen to start unbagging the groceries.

He agrees, and soon you're both spending quality time together.

By nightfall, you're both engrossed with the final film while partaking in the leftover empanadas you'd made earlier.

You're on your fourth rum and coke, which pairs great with the empanada you're currently dabbing some hot sauce on while watching the drama, unaware of your father's pensive glance.

"I had the maid turn down the guest bed," he mentions as innocuously as he can.

You chew your bite and shift in your seat to look over at him. Swallowing, you retort, "I wasn't planning on spending the night, Pá."

You can see the furrow in his brow smoothen as he tries to not look judgmental. "I don't want you driving home so late. You've been drinking—"

Realizing why he's worrying, you wave him off, assuring, "I'm perfectly capable of driving. And I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He pauses the movie and frowns before weighing his options in how to respond. He seems to settle for, "I'd feel more comfortable if you spent the night, mija."

Finishing your empanada, you ruefully shake your head before washing it down with a sip of your drink.

"Unless Javier could come pick you up?"

Being a few drinks in, the indignant fire doesn't reach your eyes as quickly as it would've had he made the suggestion earlier. Deciding to relent, just a little, though, you muse impassively, "He's on a business trip."

Humming, he takes a long sip of his own drink before exhaling and attempting to capitalize on not being rebuffed on the topic like you'd done occasions prior. "Things are going well, then?"

You can't help sigh, because you truly do not want to argue with or snap at your father, but his constant need to broach the subject of your personal life aggravates you. So, you try to count to ten before placing your drink glass back onto the coaster on the coffee table before you answer him.

"I take it you haven't been able to get a rundown from anyone else on the matter?"

You turn to look at him directly, eyes frank as your brows quirk upwards in query.

He frowns, before responding in a mild baritone, "I'd rather ask my daughter about her life. Is that so wrong of me?"

You take a cleansing breath through your nose and let it out slowly before answering carefully, "Pá, I just don't want to end up arguing with you about my life. I don't want to be browbeaten by you, or feel like I have to defend myself—"

"I'm not asking you to, tesoro," he grumbles in a low tone, before pressing, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I am. But I know that's not all you want to ask, and I don't want to go down this road and end up with us getting upset," you tell him bluntly, crossing your arms and leaning back.

His jaw squares in impatience with you, but instead of snapping crossly like he would've in your youth, your father huffs and crosses his own arms to stare at you keenly.

"Just tell me one thing, and I won't broach the subject anymore," he proposes in his deep, raspy pitch. When you nod, his features relax minutely as he asks, "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

You responded without an ounce of hesitation, and the way your expressive gaze lit up with clear affection for this Javier Peña who makes you happy – as if he'd flashed across your mind's eye as you answered, made it easy for him to surrender.

With a hum, he presses the button on the remote so the VCR resumes the movie.

"Good."

You're pleasantly surprised.

When the movie ends a short while later, you surprise your father by agreeing to spend the night. So once you've packed the leftovers and washed the dishes, you kiss him on the cheek and go down the hall to the back guest bedroom.

Around the same time you're exiting the shower to get into a flowy nightgown and slip under the cool covers of the plush bed, Javier is just getting into his hotel room on St. Thomas.

After landing and spending most of the day getting shown around by Steve's ASAC, Sam Petersen, he was bone tired, and looking forward to just crashing. Tossing his suitcase onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, Javi tiredly empties his pockets and places everything on the night stand before dropping down onto the mattress and kicking his boots off in order to lie back and stretch his aching muscles. Lulling his head to the side, he sees the alarm clock lists it being just after 11:45pm.

Even though he'd warned you he probably would get in too late to call tonight, he wished he could hear your voice before bed. Deciding he didn't want to risk waking you up, he lumbers up off the bed and starts stripping on his way to the bathroom. One nice hot shower a few minutes later, and he's trekking back into the cool airconditioned room in just a towel, yawning noisily as he unzips the suitcase and flips the top open in search for some boxers or pajama bottoms to wear to bed.

The exhaustion clears from his eyes when he sees just how neatly you've packed everything. His toiletry bag is snug in the center while two pairs of suits are crisp and folded just right that all he need do is put them on hangers, the dress shoes were buffed and shined, and everything else was tucked and rolled for easy arranging. Even the soft cotton dark gray boxers you packed were arranged right on top of the main folded pile, so he wouldn't have to rifle for them.

Seeing as St. Thomas would be their base of operations for the next few days, Javi goes to work unpacking the items you took the time to iron and steam for him.

When he gets to the assortment of button-down shirts you packed for more casual workdays, he's surprised to find a square envelope hidden underneath them. Placing the shirts on the dresser, he picks up the envelope, opening it and finding a crisply folded sheet that looks like was carefully pulled from the planner he's seen you write reminders in.

Unfolding it, he finds a note, written in your lovely handwriting.

Javier,

Since you'll be busy and likely unable to chat much while you're away, I figured I'd write you an important reminder: I love you, with all my heart. And everything you do, it matters. I'm proud of you, and I'll be thinking about you, and wondering how I got so lucky to have you.

Please, be careful, and give yourself grace. Especially if you find yourself in a moment of frustration. I know how invested you can get when you're on the case, so just remember that you're not alone in it. And let Steve take on some of the stressing!

Missing you, chulito.

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito.

Love,

Celina

Heat fills his chest, making his heart feel full and immense at your words. It's then, when he's about to tuck the note back into the envelope, that he notices there's something else inside of it. Slipping it out, he ends up staring at the snapshot.

It's a photo of you, posed sultrily – sat at the foot of your bed, in only the nighty with the slit up the thigh. And from the looks of the angle the photo was taken, he realizes you must've found a timer on the Polaroid camera and set it on the dresser to snap you while you struck the sexy pose.

Completely floored, he's so lovestruck that it takes him a second to realize that the soft garment that the envelope was placed on is actually the silky nighty you have on in the photo.

He picks it up and brings the delicate garment to his nose. It's laced with the scent of your skin, with hints of your sweat and the fragrance of your body lotion, as well as the lingering traces of your soap, fresh smelling laundry detergent and fabric softener. A smile warms his face when he realizes that's what you meant. That he can dream of you because he'll have your alluring scent with him as he drifts off to sleep.

Tossing the towel away from his waist to plop into the bathroom's tiled floor, he quickly pulls on his boxers and goes to stretch out on the bed with the treasures you slipped into his suitcase. The look in your eyes in the photo is dazzling and flirty, and your smile is cheeky yet sexy.

Javi wonders when you would've taken it, and his mind whirs through the recent moments that have passed between you both – suddenly remembering you'd been wearing the silky nighty the late evening he'd come to spend the night at your place after a very long day of being holed up with tax officials in Hacienda, the Department of Treasury of Puerto Rico.

The local government had cleared the DEA's request to review any and all flagged income tax accounts suspected of possibly acting as shell corporations for money laundering, as well as the list out of those that had come up in property seizure documents across the Caribbean region that had so far been catalogued by the forensic accountants. He'd spent almost twelve hours in the building, and during one of the coffee breaks, he'd called you to check in. You'd managed to cajole him to come spend the night at your place since it was much closer to Hacienda. And since he'd driven himself that day, he was more than happy to agree.

You'd been in your silky robe when you'd answered the door late that night, and he'd been so exhausted that you'd towed him to your room, stripped him of his clothes, and herded him to bed. With the lights shut, you'd curled up against him under the covers when he'd looped his arm around you and held you close, and your warm skin and the soft scent of your hair had lulled him into a deep slumber. He hadn't realized you were in the sexy nighty that had become his favorite of them all until the next morning when you'd stirred him awake with a gentle kiss to his forehead before lovingly caressing his relaxed features and liltingly murmuring his name. His eyes had dreamily gazed up at you, focusing on your mussed hair and how the early morning rays spilling in from the hall framed you, sat at the edge of the bed.

"Javi, it's almost 7. Do you have any early meetings?" you'd murmured, gliding your palm along his deltoid, bright eyes and fresh features bare, with only affection radiating down at him.

He'd stretched to roll onto his back, reaching his hand to cup your knee as he shifted up on his elbow and stifled a yawn before mumbling in a raspy husk, "Mmmph, yeah. A very important one," before seamlessly whisking you up and over him to sprawl onto the bed. You squeaked in surprise and then giggled when he rolled on top of you before crooning, "That is, if you can pencil me in, jefa."

"Oh, I just so happen to have some time right now, agente," you purred teasingly as you'd wrapped your arms around him and kissed his smiling lips.

When you'd both gotten hot and heavy, you'd tried to shimmy the nighty up and off, but he'd stopped you. "No, keep it on," he recalls rumbling before kissing a path down your body in order to bury his head between your welcoming thighs.

Arousal curls hotly down into his loins at the memory of you crying out and gripping his hair when you'd orgasmed on his tongue and sobbed his name in a breathy whimper.

Javier had to slam the proverbial breaks on his raunchy thoughts racing off into reliving how you'd stopped him from smugly leaving you sprawled on the bed to instead order him to strip his boxers off before you pushed him down onto the rumpled covers and yanked your nighty off, climbed on top of him, and rode his cock while squeezing his hands after interlacing your fingers with his and holding on as you rocked each other into an incandescent climax.

Shimmying under the blanket, Javi shuts the night table lamp off and stretches out with your nighty draped over the adjacent pillow, and drifts off to sleep with your scent soothing him and the photo tucked against his palm and the silky garment.

It's the best night of sleep he's ever had while away from you.

You, on the other hand, did not sleep very well.

Waking up with a slight hangover, thanks to how stiff your father pours drinks, you'd slithered out of bed and took a hot shower to try and revive yourself. Thankfully, by the time you'd wandered down to the kitchen, he'd already made a pot of coffee and there were an assortment of pastries and fruit to choose from on the grand island counter. He was sat at the nice eat-in table by the wide window, reading his morning paper.

"Doña Lana can make you anything you'd like for breakfast. She's just running the washer," he remarks without glancing away from the Op-ed he's skimming.

"That's alright. The coffee and this pastelillo de guayaba will be more than enough," you retort smoothly as you pour yourself a cup and pick up the pastry to go sit at the table with him. "What time is your flight?"

"Just before noon," he answers and folds up the newspaper to set it aside so he can sip from his own mug, eyeing you over the rim.

The respite of having a nice cup of strong coffee and a deliciously flaky and sweet pastry in a comfortable silence is short lived when he clears his throat and finally says what he's wanted to say for a while now.

"I'm really glad we've been spending more time together, tesoro. I was hoping you'd be open to getting together when I get back? Perhaps a dinner or outing, that doesn't exclude Camille?"

You silently seethe and count to ten as you finish your last bite. Washing it down with a long sip of coffee, you busily dab the napkin to your lips and use it to dust the powdered sugar from your fingertips.

"I'd like to keep this up, Pá. But I can't agree to that and be expected to grin and bear her," you tell him honestly, trying to keep all emotion from your tone.

He absorbs that, before crossing his arms and giving you an intense stare.

"All she's wanted is to be considered family, and she's done nothing but be supportive of us catching up for lost time…but I can tell it's begun to upset her, being excluded. It would mean a lot to me," is his bass-filled petition, his brows furrowing hopefully when you don't immediately scoff or shake your head. "You could invite Javier along—"

"Let's not get carried away," you finally sigh and idly brush the rogue strands of hair back from your face. You see a flicker of disappointment etch his features, so you dramatically huff before deflating back in your chair, then clear your throat before graveling, "Hmph…"just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in!""

Your father cracks a broad smile at that before chuckling, "That movie was terrible."

"Right?! I was so surprised by how bad it was," is your irreverent comment, snickering as you lean forward to prop your elbow on the table, "It did have some decent one-liners, though."

He grunts, before quoting, "Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment."

Laughing, you quote back, "Never let anyone know what you're thinking."

He laughs along, but then surprises you when he reaches his hand out to affectionately squeeze your propped up forearm, before gazing warmly at you, as he quotes, "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

It takes you off guard, to hear him quote that line. Truthfully, it disarms you, so you lean back and take his hand.

Just like when you were little, his hand dwarfs yours, and a heartstring tugs in your chest as you remember how much you'd loved walking with your father, holding his hand.

"Ok. I'll think about it," you murmur and give his hand a squeeze.

When you hug him goodbye a short while later, you wish him luck on his meetings, and he promises to call you once he's back on the island.

Both you and Javier have such hectic days that you don't get to check in with each other until very late that evening.

He's just returned to his hotel room and begins eagerly stripping his blazer and yanking his tie loose when his cell phone starts ringing in his pocket.

Retrieving it and pressing the button to answer, he props the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he toes off his dress shoes and empties his pockets. "Hello?"

"Hey, hermoso. It's not too late to chat?" your smooth lilting voice queries over the line.

"No, I actually just got back to my room," he assures as he sits to lounge back against the headboard of the bed. Stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he exhales relaxedly before asking, "You missing me as much as I miss you, preciosa?"

He hears you snicker flirtatiously before musing, "Depends on how much you're missing me."

"Ah, if you're gonna be that way, I'm just gonna get ready for my date with the sexy little thing I got waiting in bed with me then," Javi tauntingly croons as he pulls out your photo from his wallet left on the nightstand and smirks when you make a grumpy little sound of disapproval.

"Well, stud, go right ahead. I have my own date in bed too," you counter sarcastically.

Grunting, Javier mutters flatly, "See, when you say it, it's way too believable—"

Snickering dismissively, you deride, "Hah, mira quien habla. I told you they used to call you el guapo descarado around the embassy. I never got such an apodo—"

Quippingly, Javi cuts in, "No, you were 'that ferocious little minx' and 'a knockout', oh and 'drop-dead gorgeous'—"

Your dramatic sigh has him pausing to grin, then chuckling when you grumble, "Tan chavón."

Humming innocently, he drawls in a gravelly murmur, "The only thing I got a date with, is your sexy nighty. I slept like a rock last night thanks to it."

"Ah, so you found it," you chime coolly, and he can hear the shifting of the covers as you pull the quilt back and slide under it. "I'm hoping to have a better night's sleep thanks to cuddling your shirt tonight."

"You spent the night at your dad's?" he queries as he unbuttons his dress shirt open and pulls the tails loose from the waistband of his slacks.

"Yeah. I ended up having a bit too much to drink, so I crashed in the guest room," you reply before redirecting, "So, how's St. Thomas?"

"It's alright. Sunny, but hot. Luckily, we've spent a lot of time indoors, dealing with CBP's Office of Field Operations here," is his smooth reply, hand idly brushing the curls of hair fanning over his forehead back as he grouses, "They're being pains in the ass."

"Oh?" you query curiously.

"Yeah, there's always been inter-agency static between DEA and CBP. They're wanting to red tape us to a point of impatience. But really, they're just trying to keep all the action for themselves, and don't want DEA oversight," he explains before huffing his aggravation from his tone, to add, "Anyway, we got one more day here, then it's off to St. John."

"Hang in there, boss man," you quip impishly, before asking, "Did you find the envelope?"

"Yes, I did. And you're a wicked little tease for slipping that photo in," he retorts with a smooth, canela-dipped rumble in his voice.

You giggle, and it makes that funny tickle flutter heat in that spot behind his sternum.

"Just a little reminder of what you have to come home to, guapito," is your smug purr before you end up stifling a yawn. "So you know, I meant everything I wrote. And I really miss you, Javi."

That radiating feeling throbs in his chest at your words. He's carried your letter in his pocket all day, sneaking it out of the envelope to skim it whenever he had a free moment. Picking it up from where he placed it down on the nightstand, he rests it over his chest as he stares at your photo.

You hear some rustling on his end of the line, and wonder if he's even read the letter, when he clears his throat and husks, "It means a lot. No one…I've never…It just means everything to me." Obviously fumbling with articulating his feelings, Javier huffs at himself before declaring, "When I get back, I'll do a better job, showing you how much it means to me, querida."

Clutching his pillow to your chest, you smile whimsically as you tell him, "I love you, Javi."

"I love you too, corazón," is his raspy murmur, before he purrs, "Dulces sueños, mi amor."

Feeling effervescently besotted, you susurrate, "Soñaré de ti, mi cariñito."

You both wish each other goodnight before hanging up, and sleep finds you both easily thanks to each other's scent lulling you into sweet slumber.

You do dream of Javier.

The sound of the tropical night filters into your dream as you're sitting in the passenger seat of the Cadillac. Javier is in the driver's seat, with one hand steering the wheel while his other arm is draped over the back of the bench. The scenery through the front windshield is of a winding, Puerto Rican rural mountain road at early twilight, but in the back windshield, it's the sunset sky over the Medellín cityscape. Javier's hand moves from the back of the seat to rest on your thigh, and when you look down at it, you're surprised to see your belly is swollen under a flowy black peasant dress with red embroidery on the hem and down the front collar.

You look over to find Javi smiling at you as the orange and blush-toned hues of twilight illuminate his profile. When you go to lean close to him for a kiss, you're suddenly jolted awake by your alarm clock blaring.

Scrambling over to shut it off, you flop onto your back and sigh confusedly up at the ceiling.

No dawdling. Doctor's appointment awaits.

The details of the dream were already fading into the fuzzy recesses of your mind by the time you're arriving to the waiting room. Signing into the log sheet at the front desk, you entered and found the space filled with a lot of other patients waiting their turn. You were surprised the office was busy so early first thing in the morning, but quickly abandoned wondering about it to instead let your anxious thoughts preoccupy you.

Another lab screening is due, so bloodwork as well as the usual checkup. Nothing's come back since the last one, so not likely to have any changes until the specialist reviews—

They call your name, and you snap out of your internal worrying to get up from the seat you were able to snag nearest the door.

It was for the best, you thought, to continue not mentioning your health concerns to Javi. You figured that until they were able to give you a definitive diagnosis, it would be pointless to make him worry. Sure, you also didn't want to spend too much time fretting about all the 'what ifs' that had already plagued you for months, but there was a small part of you that was already settling into being resigned towards what seemed like an inevitable outcome.

You didn't want to say it out loud, though. Not yet.

After taking several vials of blood and tagging them for analysis, your doctor charted your current weight and asked you about any irregularities in diet, if you'd been fatigued or feeling off.

Confirming that aside from still not menstruating, you felt fine, she asked, "And you're still sexually active?"

"Yes," you answer, worrying the leather strap of your purse between your hands.

"And it's been with the same partner?" she inquires, and at your nod, she neutrally asks, "Unprotected sex?"

"Yes," you confirm, tone a little tight.

"Hmm, well, I'd like to test to make sure you're not pregnant. I'll note it on the lab form as well," she clinically details as she scribbles just that on the form. "As usual, I'll call you with the results. In the meantime, keep your routine, and be sure to take plenty of vitamins. Especially with this flu that's going around."

You nod and thank her, still on autopilot from compartmentalizing the anxiety and dread the visit whips up inside of you.

A few minutes later and you're back in your car, feeling the pressure from worrying all morning begin to dissipate. Driving out of the parking lot, you cruise through the increasing street traffic as rush hour starts to congest the metropolitan roadways.

The radio is on your favorite station, and the morning program is recapping the latest local news when you notice that the car is starting to shake oddly.

Suddenly, just as you pass the traffic light of the intersection, you feel a sharp lurch before the undercarriage of the car slams roughly down on the pavement, as if you'd just hit the mother of all potholes. But then you hear metal grinding against asphalt, and immediately stop the car, only to find you can't turn the wheel to try and pull off to the nearest curb and out of the way of traffic.

Frantically, you keep trying to force the wheel, but it isn't until a bystander on the sidewalk rushes over and waves at you that you lower your window and hear him tell you that you're driving on the axel because your driver's side tire came off.

The next few minutes is pure chaos as car horns blare at you and impatient drivers zoom around your disabled vehicle into the opposite lane, which then causes a traffic bottleneck in the opposite direction you were driving.

After climbing over your center console to exit through the front passenger door, you manage to see the damage for yourself.

"Oh my god," you gasp at seeing that indeed, your entire tire – rim and all – came off the axel and was flung at the corner of the intersection.

Several calls later, and the police are detouring traffic while a tow struck is hitching your car to its flatbed to be transported to your dealership. With your work tote, workout bag, and purse in hand, you accept the tow truck driver's ride to the dealership. Realizing you're going to be very late for the manager's meeting, you get your cell phone from your purse and call Ellis.

"—Holy shit! Are you ok?!"

"Yeah, just a little thrown off. It doesn't look like I'll make it in time, so could you do me a favor and take any notes for me? Devon is in the Operations review so I—"

"No worries, kid. I got you. It sounds like it's gonna be another budgetary thing anyway," he assures and promises to give word to Olga so she can relay the news to Devon once he's back in your department.

The dealership is baffled when you explain to them what happened, and insist there's no way your recent service could've caused such an issue with your tire. Still, they agree to expedite the repairs and do a full diagnosis to see if anything else is wrong with your vehicle.

Unfortunately for you, they don't have any loaner vehicles available, so you're just about to ask them if they can call you a taxi when you remember that Kike had given you his cell phone number.

The congenial plainclothes officer is pulling up to the dealership not even twenty minutes later.

"Chacho, that sounds very scary!" he remarks, shaking his head empathetically after you tell him what happened. "If you need a ride later, I can take you home—"

"No, don't worry. While I waited, I called my friend to cancel plans we had for tonight, but she didn't let me and offered to pick me up," you reassure, smiling as you thank, "I appreciate it, though! I promise to call if I'm stuck for real."

"Ok, very good," he intones, as if satisfied, driving through morning traffic all the way to La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are. During the drive, you ask him about how his training exercises went, and he jovially tells you how he's progressing and should be snagging the tactical ops certification in a month or so.

While you're hearing about the training Kike has yet to complete, Javier is standing under the shady canopy in front of the luxury store's display window, admiring the different, glitzy jewelry options arranged on the shelves and stands. The promenade is busy with tourists and locals alike, out enjoying the balmy Caribbean morning.

Just like that previous time wandering the jewelry district in Bogotá, Javier was perplexed by the variety of options – at the daunting number of rings one could possibly choose from. He was just internally admonishing himself for not having peeked into your jewelry box prior to see what kinds of rings – if any – you wore, for inspiration, when Steve approached his right side and hummed in goading wonder to get his attention.

"Well? Any of 'em catch your fancy?" he drawls as he squints at a very gaudy canary yellow diamond ring.

Grunting, Javi pushes his sunglasses back into place over the bridge of his nose before glancing over at Steve. "That's the thing: I haven't seen anything that feels like 'the one' – which as I say it out loud, sounds dumb," Javi mutters before looking back at the display.

Cocking a brow curiously, Steve remarks, "I mean, you were engaged once before—?"

"I didn't pick out that ring," Javi cuts in matter-of-factly, and Steve raises his brows in confusion, so he explains, "When we'd decided on needing to get hitched, Lorraine showed me an ad for the engagement ring she saw at the local jeweler's that she liked, so I got it and went to ask her father for permission. Showed him I already had the ring, so no one would suspect," he trails off before absently brushing the perspiration beading at his forehead. Running his hand to sweep his rogue curls back, he ends up shrugging, deadpanning, "I have no clue what she would like."

"I mean, when in doubt, a simple, big ole diamond ring should do the trick," Steve razzes and claps Javi on the back good-naturedly.

"No shit," Javier scoffs, griping, "But gold band? What shape diamond? I just don't know…"

Humming sympathetically, Steve was going to suggest maybe asking one of your close friends for help ring shopping, when a car pulled up to the curb and honked at them.

"Our ride's here," Javi mumbles as he walks by Steve, gesturing for him to hop to it. "Let's get this nonsense over with."

They both get in the SUV to be driven over to the U.S. Customs field office, and all the rings and twinkling diamonds fill his head as they drive to their appointment.

You're in desperate need for a break.

Once you'd gotten to the building, you'd spent the rest of the workday playing catchup. All your meetings had to be rescheduled and you hadn't had a moment to even grab coffee or a snack for lunch, so by the time 2pm rolls around, you're famished. Luckily, the conference call you had with a counterpart at the D.C. federal office got rescheduled for later in the week, so you decided to rush down to the cafeteria and get something to hold you over until dinner.

You've just sat down with your little tray at the table closest to the floor-to-ceiling-length windows that overlook the interior courtyard between the Federal and U.S. Courthouse buildings when you here a pair of leather-soled shoes clomping towards you.

"Well now, having a late lunch, signorina?"

You turn to see Agent Bozzi in a light gray suit and pale teal dress shirt, sans a tie. His hair is swept back and his beard is groomed differently than you remembered, but that smug smile and his cunning gaze is still filled with promise of ulterior motives. He's holding a big cup of to-go coffee, and is standing in that obvious way someone would to nonverbally fish for an invite to sit.

"Yes, it's been a hectic day, so just needed a snack," you reply pleasantly as you can, without trying to be inviting or obviously aloof. After all, you really just want to eat your salad and fruit—

Bozzi goes ahead and slides into the empty chair across from you, nodding towards your meal as he muses charismatically, "Pretty disciplined snack. Never would've guessed you for enjoying the forbidden fruit."

Arching a brow, you retort, "This is a pear. No apples today, although, the pomegranate is believed to be the more historically accurate 'forbidden fruit' of legend."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Bozzi drawls in a bass-filled reply, thick brows knitting together almost bemusedly while you begin to eat your salad.

You can see the gears turning for him to try and come up with something else to continue in conversation, so you decide to redirect, "Well, I hope I'm not holding you up from whatever required you to get that big caffeine boost."

His eyes crinkle at his cup and he admits, "Nah, I just needed an excuse to kill some time before heading back over to the Courthouse building—"

Of course… you acerbically think to yourself.

"—been burning the candle at both ends with this task force operation. Never seen anything like it. I've heard of a neighborhood being run by the drug dealers in Jamaica, but in a U.S. territory?" Bozzi prods your interest then, so you pay attention to his unfiltered remarking of, "Can't trust local PD to get the job done, so gotta let the experts take back the block."

"A block?" you ask.

Bozzi is pleased with himself, that he was able to pique your interest with that. "Yeah. It's classified, so I can't say too much, but a small-time gang took over a whole neighborhood, and even drew a white line in front of a specific block as a point of no return for the residents and outsiders. No one can cross it but the gang," he explains boldly before shifting the topic. "Anyway, the whole thing reminds me of a ride along I did once with the Italian special forces team the FBI partnered with outside of Rome. You ever been to Italy?"

You have to do everything to not roll your eyes at him. He was laying it on thick, and you'd fallen in the conversational trap, so you relented and answered, "Yes. I spent a season in Naples while my father trained at the U.S. Naval base there."

"Ah, long enough to pick up enough Italian?" he flirts, brows smugly cresting up as he smirks charmingly.

"Enough to get by, yes," you reply and take a bite of your salad.

He seems to decide then to give up reeling you in, at least for the time being.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair. I'll see yah around, director," Bozzi remarks and seamlessly vacates the seat as quickly as he'd taken it, and smiles at you as he exits with, "Maybe we can grab a real snack sometime."

You watch him stroll towards the lobby with that cocky swagger, and internally glower. How presumptuous!

The Bozzi drive-by has you rolling your eyes as you finish your snack, taking the pear with you up to your office so you can nibble on it in peace.

If Javier knew the FBI special agent in-charge had tried to flirt you up, he would be in an even worse mood than he was currently.

U.S. Customs had agreed to let them review their own surveillance findings for the investigation into the drop sites found in remote strips of beach, but had insisted they wouldn't compromise their UC's or the targets they were currently embedded with.

"—For the last time: I don't give a shit about their aliases. All we want are leads on the local players so we can trace any of them back to the surveillance targets DEA has in Puerto Rico," Javi impatiently snaps, eyeing the official across the table like he's an obstacle begging to be moved with force.

Steve, on the other hand, is sat next to Javier and is rubbing his temples, shoulders squared in aggravation. "What Agent Peña here is saying, is we're not looking to mess with your undercover agents. We're just looking for cooperation on whether any of the contacts they've made have mentioned any partnerships with the trafficking players running the trade in Puerto Rico," is his patient insistence.

The irony of all this, which they wouldn't find out about until way after the fact, was that U.S. Customs didn't have a real foothold with the supposed underlings to the traffickers, because the targets were acting as decoys.

Junior Capsula had learned from the mistakes of Escobar, and he wasn't as big of a come mierda as the Cali Godfathers. So, he knew to insulate himself and his real partners away from public view. And after that clusterfuck of a bust back in 1988 during that Operation C-Chase, it became more obvious that no one was to ever penetrate the smoke screen created to shield true leadership of the Familia.

Then again, though, his syndicate wasn't technically part of it.

Still, that meant creating not only dummy corporations, but decoy bag men and trafficking liaisons. The days of smugglers using banks to launder money, as far as he was concerned, were over. And with the current setup he was slowly building, he was sure to grow his empire and remain incognito.

After spending all day chipping away at the red tape, Javier and Steve got the intel needed and a commitment from CBP to keep them in the loop.

By the time he got back to his room, Javi needed a shower to wash the exasperation and angst off. Steve had agreed to skip dinner in favor of unwinding over room service and a long-distance call with Connie, so Javi took the opportunity to pack his suitcase for the early flight in the morning to St. John before tossing himself onto the bed and popping the kinks out of his back.

Picking up your nighty from where he'd folded it on the pile of clothes going into the suitcase, Javi drapes it over his face and takes a deep inhale through the garment. Your scent warms his blood, and makes his impulses itch.

The cool air in the room caresses across his bare skin as he lies there in just the towel, eyes closed and thoughts going lustful.

You've just gotten home after being dropped off by Zoraida. Your muscles ache from the kooky workout you'd tried out before dinner, and now full, you feel like you're in desperate need for a nice hot soaking bath before crawling under the covers.

The bathtub is halfway full and you're just about to climb in to sit on the ledge and let your feet dip into the warm water when your cell phone starts ringing.

Rushing to retrieve it from the bedside charger, you answer it while adjusting the fluffy towel around your torso.

"Hello?"

"I really wish you'd packed a pair of your panties along with the nighty."

Scoffing a simpering laugh, you go lean back against the doorway so you can keep watch of the tub while it continues to fill. "As if I'd pack skanky panties into your luggage and run the mortifying risk of them searching your suitcase at customs!" you deride sassily, grinning when he grumbles contrarily at that.

"Tan chingona," he deadpans, before letting loose a ruminating exhale.

Humming curiously, you ask, "Something on your mind?" then add, "Bad day?"

"Just a ball-busting kind of day. Nothing worth mentioning," is his monotone gripe, before he queries, "How was your day, cariño?"

You don't really want to tell him about the chaotic day, especially the incidents with the car and Agent Bozzi, so you simply respond, "It was busy! And I capped it off by going with Zoraida to try out this Pilates thing, so after I finish this hot bath, I'm taking my tired ass to bed."

"Pilates?" he remarks on a grunt.

"Yeah, it's the latest workout, I guess. All about precise ranges of motion and they use this machine that kind of looks like a torture rack to stretch your muscles and make you hold into positions to strengthen your core," you tell him as you walk over and turn the faucet of the tub off. "I'm probably going to feel like I was beaten with a stick in the morning."

"Jesus, don't overdo it, baby," is his rumbling tut, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his voice when he adds, "I think you should just stick to our special regiment and let me work you into positions that'll have you feeling good, instead."

You snicker, "Beyako," and smirk when he chuckles cockily at your ribbing. "You guys are flying out to St John in the morning still?"

"Yep. We'll be there a few days. Steve's ASAC has a lot of meetings set up for us," he replies on a huffy sigh.

Pouting, you chime, "You can do it, gruñón. I believe in you."

Javi blows a raspberry at that. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, bravita. Now, go have your bath. I'll call you tomorrow night," is his rugged murmur that has electricity zinging through you and into your core. "Goodnight, mi amor."

"Goodnight. Love you, chulito," you croon sweetly before telling him goodbye.

Setting the phone aside, you toss the towel onto the floor and slip carefully into the warm bath water. You practically melt as the heat seeps into your aching muscles, as you luxuriate with the fragrant soap you lather yourself up with before dipping below the surface and popping up for breath before lounging backwards against the tub.

When you get into bed and fall asleep, you're hugging Javier's pillow, with his college shirt tucked around it. Your slumber is sound and soothing.

For Javi, however, his night's sleep is filled with sexy dreams of you.

Needless to say, he's ridiculously horny when he wakes up early the following morning. The urge lingers in his core, even after he takes the edge off in the shower. Sure, it doesn't help that his salacious mind can't stop thinking about you. That when he brushes his teeth, the image of you smiling brilliantly at him fills his mind's eye. And when he shaves, the hickey you left on his neck, while mostly healed, still taunts him with the memory of how wild you got as you reached bliss and reveled in the throes of pleasure that he gave you.

By the time he was riding down in the elevator with Steve to check out, he felt like an animal in a rut. And once they were waiting at the gate to board their hour-long flight, Javi was craving a cigarette bad.

"Fuck, you got any nicotine gum?" Javier asks Steve as he rifles through the front zip pockets of his suitcase.

"Yeah," Steve goes into his pocket for the pack he keeps on him. "Here, take 'em. I'm on the patch."

Javi takes the pack and immediately pops one of the gums out of the tray packaging. Tossing it into his mouth, he chews and pockets the rest in his jeans. "Thanks. I knew I forgot to pack something," he grumbles as he sits back and absently scrubs his hand along his jaw, exhaling soothingly when the familiar tingle disperses from the gum.

"Technically you didn't pack the suitcase though, right?" Steve jibes, twirling the pen he's plucked from his polo's breast pocket.

The smile crests his lips before he can even try to feign coolness. "She surprised me with it, then packed everything immaculately for me. But I haven't been relying on the gum as much lately, so I didn't have any lying around," he replies as he tucks the gum into his cheek and checks his watch. "How're Connie and the kids?"

Steve grunts lamentingly. "Olivia caught the flu from school, so Connie picked her up early and took today off to stay home with the girls. She's keeping Isabel away to avoid her catching it, which you can imagine isn't easy," he explains, frowning. "She said flu cases have been spiking the last week."

"Shit, that's rough. You're gonna have to make it up to her big time when you get back," Javi states the obvious and nods sagely at Steve, which always gets the gringo's goat.

"Says the guy who came down here to marry the girl he let get away, and he hasn't even gotten his shit together to pick out a ring," Steve instigates right back and cocks his eyebrow snootily at him. Seeing the comment needle Javier enough that he broodingly crosses his arms and huffs crossly out of his nose before staring at the terminal's foot traffic, Steve sticks his lower lip out as he grunts, before divulging, "I think you're overcomplicating the ring thing. Celina is not a flashy lady. I'm sure a nice, classic ring with a simple diamond in the middle will make her more than happy. And anyway, you can get fancy on the actual wedding band later on."

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it the rest of the day.

You, on the other hand, are doing anything but thinking straight right now. Not with how run down and sick you feel.

It started as a lethargic fatigue in your muscles that morning. One you easily chalked up to being sore from the workout the night before. You ignored it and went about your day.

The car insurance company was nice enough to expedite getting you a rental car to use while yours was still at the dealership getting repaired, and once in the vehicle, you'd commuted to the office. By noon, though, you'd started getting a congestion headache. You managed to make it to 3pm before you had to call it a day, feeling lousy and begrudgingly frowning when Devon had poked his head in to see you listlessly packing your tote as he remarked, "Oh no, you too, huh. Noreen caught the flu last week, and it's slowly been working its way through the building."

With your purse slung across your shoulder and tote hanging in your hand, you waved him away as you croaked, "I'm going to go home before I pass out. Now, stay away so I don't infect you—"

"Ah, I never get sick. I've been around everyone who's gotten the flu so far," he'd stated like it was irrefutable, before shrugging and insisting, "I'll cover that meeting at 4pm and have Olga adjust your calendar for tomorrow. You're definitely going to need bedrest."

You'd groaned, but thanked him before schlepping out as quickly as your aching body could. However, you'd gotten to your apartment and barely made it into your room before realizing you'd forgotten to finish an efficiency report due the beginning of the following week, and you hadn't packed your laptop.

Too drained to come up with a solution, you undressed and got into an oversized baggy t-shirt and crawled into bed. You had taken a dose of the medicine that was sure to knock you out soon, so you were hoping to get the ginger tea down to help settle your stomach before that happened. The chills had just started wracking through your frame as the house phone rang while you stood wrapped up in your throw blanket by the kitchen as the tea kettle heated up on the stove.

Croakily, you answer, "Hello?"

"Ay, no, you're sick too?!" Zoraida's dramatic lamentation sounds harried and raspy. "I woke up con la monga—"

"Join the club," you grouse, shivering. "And I was just at the doctor when she mentioned watching out to not catch it—"

"Ah! So you must've caught it and given it to me," Zoraida sarcastically chastises before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Nena, it's flu season! Plus, wasn't that instructor last night sniffling?!" you lob right back, jolting when the kettle starts to whistle.

"Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda," Zoraida huffs over the line. "Anyway, I was calling to tell you I have to cancel going to the salon—"

"Obviamente," you laconically drawl as you steep the tea bag in the piping hot water you just poured before taking the mug back to your bedroom. "I was really looking forward to some pampering, too," is your gruff complaint. Once you've pressed the phone to your ear and gotten yourself situated in your blanket cocoon, you add, "This week ha sido una mierda, and it's not even over yet."

"Oh yeah?" your friend queries.

With the medicine cruising through your bloodstream, you're too sick to want to keep your guard up. Most of your energy was zapped out of you, so you end up venting about your week so far, not realizing how brashly detailed you're being.

"—Anyway, I'll stop ranting. Once we both feel better, we'll do the salon," you end up musing before you both wish each other speedy recovery so you can finish your tea and try to get some rest.

Javier tries to call you later that night, but you are dead to the world thanks to the medicine you took making you groggy. He figures you must've had a long day and fallen asleep early. But when he calls your cell phone, then your office line the next morning and gets no response? He starts to worry, and your home phone goes to voicemail after ringing for several beats. So, he calls Ellis.

The man picks up as he stifles a sneeze. "Hello?"

"Hey, It's Javier. Sorry to call out of the blue, but I haven't been able to get a hold of Celina," he explains, pacing the length of the hall just outside of the CBP conference room he and Steve had been in most of the morning. "Is everything ok?"

"Hey, Jav. One sec—" Ellis begins before being interrupted by another sneeze. "Ugh, sorry. Anyway, she's out with the flu. Probably sleeping it off. It's been running rampant in the building. Think I'm catching it too," is his congested explanation, before adding, "Poor girl's had a hell of a week as it is. I was planning on stopping by her place to drop off her laptop, so I can let her know to give you a call, if you want."

"Shit. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Hope you feel better soon too," Javi answers before they exchange goodbyes.

He's puzzled by the other man's comment, though. When you call him back later on that night, he's relieved to hear your voice and doesn't immediately remember to ask you about your week.

"—Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I missed your calls!"

"It's ok, querida. Heard you're not feeling great," he replies, leaning against the banister of the patio he's currently stood on while the sun sets in the horizon across the way.

"I caught the flu. Minus Devon and Olga, almost everyone I know at the Federal office has been sick," you tell him in a tinny voice before coughing.

"Pobrecita," is his lament. "Olivia's been sick too. Shit's going around."

"Aww, bendito," you chime sympathetically. "The medicine I've been taking makes me drowsy, but I do feel much better than I did yesterday. Ellis came by a little while ago to drop off my laptop," is your comment before adding cheekily, "He told me you called him all worried about me."

"I did," Javi admits easily. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better—"

"Hey, Jav! You want another drink?" Steve interrupts as he shouts over from inside the house they're visiting.

"Babe, are you and Steve on a date?" you jibe impishly.

"No, you loquita," Javi snorts as he turns and gestures to Steve that he's still good with his half-filled glass of whiskey. "We're at his ASAC's place. Sam and his wife invited us over for dinner. I'm actually out on their patio. It's got a great view of the beach shore."

"Ah, that's nice! I won't keep you then—"

"When are you and I going to go to the beach together, eh?" Javi cuts in charmingly, before drawling, "Any secret playas we can go lay out on, just the two of us?"

You snicker, "Yes, there are a few, chavón. Hurry back so I can pack a beach tote and drag you along on a seashore adventure!"

"I'm holding you to that, preciosa. Now get some rest. Love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care."

By the weekend, you're feeling almost 70 percent back to normal, with only a cough lingering now.

Your doctor had called with the lab results, and you were miffed to hear yet again that the results were 'normal' and requiring more observation, since none of the markers for thyroid, PCOS or pituitary issues were coming up that could explain the amenorrhea.

After also confirming you were not pregnant either, she surprised you when she asked, "Have you been feeling stressed lately?"

You'd been thrown off, but replied that you were of course stressed, but not in any significant way you felt was abnormal.

Deciding to schedule another checkup in a few months, she recommended you find ways to lower your stress, relax on exerting yourself in your fitness routine, and continue with vitamins to help build up your hormonal balance since you were probably still coming off being on birth control for such a protracted period of time.

The whole thing was aggravating you, which obviously wasn't helping lower any stress. Still, you compartmentalized the news and continued with your day, which was filled with playing catchup from your disastrous week previous, and looking forward to having that pampering session with Zoraida after work.

When you're finally basking in the lounge with Zoraida post-services, sipping your complimentary champagne, she decides to hit you with her nosy interrogating.

"So, when's your jevo back from his work trip?"

"He's flying back tomorrow night."

"When are we gonna meet him, hm?"

"Soon."

"Are we going to meet him before your dad does?"

"Probably."

"Are things progressing to him eventually meeting him, though?"

Scoffing after swallowing your sip, you gripe, "Girl, I don't know! I'm not following an itinerary or anything—"

"You said your dad's been insisting on meeting him, so I was just wondering," she defensively retorts, shrugging.

"…I did?" is your confused remark, brows furrowing.

"Yeah. The other night? You said your dad has been fishing for you to open up about him, and that he even suggested inviting him over to dinner—"

You truly don't remember that, and it's plain on your face.

"Coño, nena – no te recuerdas," she snickers, elaborating, "You were venting about how he's pulling on your heartstrings about it? Something about quoting The Godfather?"

"Hah, yeah, ok. Jeez, I'm telling you, that stuff had me groggy and drowsy," you ruefully shake your head and finish your last sip.

"So…does Javier know?"

"About my dad jodiendo? No—"

"No, not that. Does he know about the doctor's checkups?"

Blinking in shock, you realize you must've just rambled in your grogginess about everything that was front of mind for you.

"No. I haven't told him because there's nothing to really tell," you answer, sitting back in the lounge chair and running your manicured fingers over your freshly trimmed and styled hair absently as you confide, "I was hoping to know by now whether it's just residual hormonal imbalance from being on the pill for so long, but they think it's this condition—well, they don't know if it is because they haven't diagnosed any underlying causes—"

"I mean, you've been with only Javi this whole time, right?" Zoraida interrupts, and at your vacant nod, she presses, "Pues, since you've gone off the birth control. He's the only guy you've had sex with?"

"Zory, you know he's been the only one," you scoff, shifting in your seat while glowering at her.

"Well? Then maybe he's shooting blanks," she states like it's no big deal.

"…Zory," you begin, but then huff, "I'm the one not having a normal menstrual cycle—"

"Which your doctor said isn't totally abnormal—"

"Why are we even talking about this?!"

"Because! You are with this man who could get you pregnant any minute—"

"Por Dios—no he's not, because I'm more than likely infertile!"

You realize you've blurted it out and now sit there, feeling moored to the scary reality you've not wanted to acknowledge out loud.

Leaning forward and empathetically rubbing your arm, Zoraida assures in an unwavering tone, "You don't know that yet. Until you do, there's no point stressing yourself out over it."

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you feel guilty. You're unsure why.

"Anyway…did I tell you, that I think Rafa is going to propose to Naida?"

The new topic overrides the mounting rumination in your head and refocuses you.

It's a perfect distraction that carries you to the end of the hangout.

By the time you get home, you feel wrung out. Sleep comes easily, and the next morning as you prepare to go into work, you're feeling recharged – albeit still dealing with the lingering respiratory stuffiness.

You get completely caught up at work, and even have time to plan for the upcoming projects that will require you to travel in the next month or so.

When the dealership finally calls about your car the following day, you're hopeful that you can get back to your normal routine. However, you're surprised when they ask for you to come down so they can speak with you in person.

After work, you commute over to the busy avenue the dealership and its auto shop are.

You are brought into what would be used as a leasing agreement room, and are perplexed when the assistant manager and the lead technician enter the room with a bunch of documents.

They talk through all the repairs, show you photos of all the damage they documented when the car was dropped off by the tow company, and show you after photos. Then, they hit you with it.

"…You're saying that the tire was tampered with?"

"Well, we can't say that for sure—"

"Señorita, I'm going to be frank. I have been arguing that the kind of damage cannot be from negligence on our part. If when you'd gotten your tune up, we'd improperly tightened the lugnuts, you'd have noticed first thing. The fact that the incident occurred almost a week after the service? In my professional opinion, someone loosened those nuts—"

Truly flummoxed, you continue to listen to them, and make arrangements for the insurance rep to meet with them in order to review their findings so they can document their case. Said rep contacts you, explaining since there is no police report detailing suspicion of the car being tampered with, they would write it off as a sudden mechanical failure, with the cause as inconclusive.

Still, the rep can't help joke, "After something like this? I'd kick all the tires before I get in the car."

You'd dropped off the rental and gotten your vehicle from the dealership, finding that it drove fine the whole way to work.

The entire ordeal is so jarring and filled with judicious paper trailing that you end up not realizing you hadn't heard from Javi until that afternoon.

Going to the floor the DEA department was on, you loped down in the direction of Javier's office, hoping to at least pop in and say hello if he's too busy. However, when you round the corner and head towards his office door, you're surprised to be stopped by his admin, who clears her throat before stating curtly, "Agent Peña isn't in today."

You turn, internally wondering if you were misinterpreting the edge of her tone when Steve comes around the corner from his own office, spotting you.

"Hey, hun! Got a minute?" Steve greets and asks, gesturing with a point over his shoulder for you to step into his office for privacy.

Nodding, you stride coolly over and make it a point not to look in the admin's direction.

Once you're in the tall blond's office, he closes the door and accepts your hug and kiss on the cheek hello. "Is Javi at the field office today?"

"Nope. He's out sick," Steve drawls in his sarcastic twanging tone. At your gasp, he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs comically. "I know. He was complaining about having a headache before we got on the flight last night, and then this morning he called saying he felt like absolute shit, so I sent Segarra to the field office while I cover stuff here," is his explanation. "I told him to stay in bed, because he did sound like complete crud."

Crud was an understatement for how Javier was feeling right now.

He'd cursed himself the entire plane ride to San Juan for stopping into the duty-free shops in the terminal before boarding the flight with Steve, certain that tourist in front of him getting rung up passed his germs onto him after coughing in his direction. By the time Wilmer drove him and Steve to their gated neighborhood, Javi's head felt foggy and his throat started aching.

Dead-tired, he'd dropped everything in his room before going to shower. He'd put on pajama bottoms and gotten into bed with the intention of calling you, but ended up rolling onto his side and passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Shivering under his sheets now, with cold sweat clinging to his feverish brow, he gritted his jaw with exhausted aggravation. He was thirsty, but too tired and achy to get out of bed and go to the kitchen. Aside from ibuprofen in his medicine cabinet, he didn't have anything to take for his fluish symptoms.

Just as he began to doze off again, the distant sound of the deadbolt lock on the front door being jiggled mutedly caught in his hearing. It wasn't until he heard it definitively unlock that he jolted up in bed and instinctively rushed to get up and retrieve his gun. Unholstering his service weapon where it was sat at the top of his dresser, he stealthily moved on feverishly trembling limbs down the hallway towards the source of entry for the intruder.

His shivering makes his shoulders quake as he stalks cautiously over, and just as he's about to switch the safety off once he's made it to the kitchen's bar top counter corner, the door opens.

You fumble over the threshold with your arms incumbered by several big paper shopping bags laden in your arms and plastic pharmacy bags hanging beyond your wrists.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

You squeak in surprise at Javier's alarmed exclamation, and nearly drop one of the bigger bags.

Quickly placing the gun on the counter, facing away from you with the safety still on, Javi shakily scrubs his hand over his feverish features.

"Javi, you scared me!" you haughtily grumble as you kick the front door shut and rush to put the bags down in the kitchen. "What're you doing out of bed—?" you begin but end up getting hit with a coughing fit.

Scowling almost pitifully, Javi grouses, "I thought someone was breaking in—"

"With a key?" you mockingly sass after clearing your throat, eyeing him sardonically as you toss your purse off from over your shoulders and place the keychain down on the counter before rounding the bar top towards him. In the low light of the entry, you hadn't seen more than his silhouette but now up close, you see how clammy his bare chest is and how worn with fever his features are, so you frown and fret, "Ay, pobrecito. Come, you have to get back to bed."

He doesn't even have the energy to argue, and is actually feeling a bit dizzy, so he is more than grateful when you loop your arm around his waist and lead the way.

Once you've helped him back into bed and pulled the sheet up to tuck him in, you sit on the edge of the mattress and take his temperature with the back of your palm to his sweltering forehead.

"You're burning up," you lament.

Tiredly, he smiles as he reaches for your cheek before he affectionately brushes his warm fingertips to tuck your swaying strands of hair behind your ear.

"You changed your hair," he points out in a gravelly murmur, eyes creasing softly as he drawls, "It looks nice."

Snickering, you cup his flushed cheek and comically sigh, "Ever the charmer."

He grunts humorously. "Steve told you I was sick," is his raspy comment, parched lips pouty when you rush up to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom so you can fold and drape it over his forehead after you brush his matted hair back from his sweaty brow.

"He did. So, I picked up a few things from the store, and stopped at their house to get your spare key from Connie," you tell him gently, caressing his cheek and brushing your thumb caringly across his dark stubble. "Have you taken anything?"

"No," he answers hoarsely, throat starting to burn from talking. "Mmmph, feel like shit."

"I know, mi amor. Stay here," you murmur and quickly go get him some medicine and a big glass of water, stifling your cough along the way.

Once he's taken the dosage and drained the glass, you make another trip to return with all the pharmacy supplies.

"Ok, sit up for me," you instruct as you retrieve the container of Vick's from one of the bags.

"C'mon, I hate that stuff," Javi complains and laboriously sits up, scowling. "I just need water and to stay in bed. No need to baby me—"

"What're your symptoms, tough guy?" you counter, looming over him with authority. When he stubbornly shrugs, you resolutely state, "Quit being a brat, or I'll make you go to the doctor."

Too tired for that, Javi grumbles in defeat, "Fever, sore throat, my body aches, and my head hurts."

"I'm putting this on you, and it's going to help with all of that. Then you're going to rest and let the medicine take effect. I'll make you some soup, and you'll drink plenty of this stuff too," you're instructing as you place the Vick's on the nightstand in order to retrieve the electrolyte drinks you picked up.

"I don't want you to get sick—" Javi grouses as he tries to suppress a shiver.

"I'm still getting over what I had, so I should be fine," you counter smoothly as you open the bottle of orange-colored electrolytes and offer it to him. He raises his brows, almost goadingly, so you sit on the edge of the mattress again and press the bottle to his lips to feed him slow sips. "Malcriado," you playfully chastise after he's drank his fill, and set the bottle aside to then open the container of vaporub ointment. Dipping your fingers in and scooping a generous amount of the ointment, you judiciously start to rub and massage it into his chest, then up into his neck, as you teasingly chide, "Your latino card is gonna get revoked for saying you hate this stuff—"

"Burlona," he grouses, corner of his mouth tugging into a smile as he holds the cool compress in place on his brow while you continue to rub the ointment along his back now.

His frame shivers from the chills caused by the fever, so you prop the pillows up for him and have him lean back. "I know you feel cold, but it's actually hot and stuffy in here, so I'm going to turn the air on," you're telling him as you pull his coverlet up from the foot of the bed in order to tuck him in before getting up to turn the air conditioner wall-mounted console on, then retrieving the boxed thermometer from the pharmacy bag.

Javi's eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are flushed while the thermometer tucked under his tongue takes his temperature as you go run the washcloth under cool water in the bathroom sink again. He can't help feel like an overgrown baby for some reason, but a small part of him is indulging in your doting treatment.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed to place the compress to his forehead, you take the thermometer from his lips and read the temperature with a frown.

"100.5," you tut before setting the thermometer aside and affectionately caressing your thumb along his cheekbone to swipe away the droplets that have dripped down from the washcloth. "You're going to start feeling groggy from the medicine, so rest while I make you some soup. I'll wake you up once it's ready—"

His warm hand reaches for your wrist to keep your palm cupping his cheek, as he rasps, "You don't have to stay and baby me, querida—"

"No seas tan terco, and let me take care of you, Javier," you bossily cut in, smiling when he exhales humorously and purses his lips out at you. "Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien."

He nods obediently, so you kiss his nose cutely and set everything he may need on the nightstand, including a box of tissues, before letting him rest in the cooling bedroom.

It isn't until you're coming in the dark room with a tray balanced in your hands that he realizes he must've dozed off for a while. His sinuses are stuffy, but he can see the piping tendrils of heat coming off the large bowl of soup, and his mouth starts watering.

Shuffling up to sit with his back against the headboard, he drowsily rubs at his face as he yawns, "How long was I out?"

You manage to place the serving tray so that the legs bracket up to stand on either side of his lap before placing the cold glass of water on the nightstand for him. "About an hour. Here, let me know if it's too hot, and I'll put some ice cubes in," you answer and instruct as you dip the spoon in and raise it to feed the sip of soup to him.

It is incandescently hot, but in the best way, so Javi helps himself once you've handed him the utensil. Along with the large bowl of noodle-rich, flavorful soup with giant chunks of potato in it, he has a nice piece of crunchy pan you must've gotten from the bakery at the supermarket.

"Mmm, thanks. I was starving and didn't even know it," he rumbles with his mouth full.

"Well, there's plenty more if you get hungry later," you tell him serenely as you go to tidy up the clutter in his bedroom from where he'd just tossed his open suitcase and things from the night before. You notice a big shopping bag with the logo of the duty-free shops printed on the side of it, but don't move it or ask him about it. Instead, you arrange the rest of the medicine to be laid out on his nightstand as you remark, "I'm going back to the office to finish a few things, but I'll be back after work, ok? Be sure to take the next dose after you eat."

He grunts while slurping up more of the noodles before murmuring, "Thanks, cariño."

With his dark soulful eyes twinkling at you like that, you can't help lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "Call me if you need anything," you tell him as you walk to the hallway.

Once you've closed the door, Javi picks up the bowl and drinks up the remaining broth straight from it, having not wanted to be too much of a boor in your presence. With his hunger more than sated, he drains a bottle of the electrolytes before moving the tray to the unoccupied side of the bed so he can lie back down, tucked under the covers. The rest of the pharmacy supplies you bought that don't fit on the nightstand are arranged on his dresser for him, along with the holstered gun you must've returned while he was asleep. The sound of the front door closing and locking echoes from the main room, so he relaxes and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep easily to the ambient hum of the consola and the soothing chill of the cool air fanning in a slow undulation around the room.

Hours later, after finishing your work day, you grab your things and head back to Javier's. You're eager to spend time with him, and actually are looking forward to taking care of him for the night, knowing he cannot be trusted to not try to use whiskey to "sweat it all out" as Steve had told you he'd not-so-jokingly grumbled after getting dropped off from the airport the night before.

You park in his driveway this time and use the second key on the ring to enter the laundry room door entrance since you weren't burdened with groceries, hoping it wouldn't rouse your sick lover to come gun drawn again.

When you come into the main living space, you're surprised to find Javier wrapped up in a blanket like a human burrito, curled up on the couch and watching TV. The coffee table is cluttered with bottles of electrolytes, an empty glass of water, a half-empty box of tissues with the used ones crumbled all over, and the tray you'd brought the soup on stood up with what looks to be several bowlfuls of remnants on it, while the bowl itself is licked clean.

"Javier Felipe Peña, I told you to stay in bed!" you admonish imperiously as you march over and loom over him.

His stubble-covered features pout up at you, disheveled hair flopping across his brow as he clumsily tries to sit up while still keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around him. "I couldn't stay asleep and got hungry, so I came out to get more soup, but got too tired to go all the way back with it, so I parked here. It was supposed to be until I finished eating, but then I fell asleep again, and then woke up and figured I should just stay here," Javi rambles, and your smile gets harder and harder to repress the more he tries to justify and appease you.

Shaking your head sardonically at him, you put your purse and tote aside on the nearby chair and come over to sit next to him and feel his forehead for his temperature.

"Hm, well you clearly still have a fever, so c'mon – back to bed," you tell him as you brush his mussed hair back from his forehead before caressing your touch along his brow, then down to cup his cheek as you give him a quick peck on the lips.

He lets you help him up and maneuver around the tray to go down the hall and back to being tucked under the covers. You fluff his pillows, prop them up behind his back for him, and retrieve the next dose of medicine he should've taken hours earlier.

"Sorry you have to put up with this," Javi croaks after clearing his sore throat.

"It's fine. I knew you would be a little shit and not obey me," is your irreverent singsong, chuckling when he glowers at you, so you angelically smile as you feed him his medicine, before asking, "Did you like the soup?"

Grunting, he finishes swallowing before drawling, "I got some of my taste and smell back after the first bowl. It was really delicious. That wasn't chicken soup, though, right?"

"Nope. That was sopa de jamón. It was my Puerto Rican grandma's recipe. It's less prep, but just as hearty and flavorful. The saltiness of the ham and the sofrito gets sucked up by the noodles, and it forces you to drink lots of fluids," you pleasantly explain as you pick up the vaporub and open it in order to scoop ointment out to massage his chest with it. "Once the medicine kicks in, I'll go start dinner."

I could really get used to being spoiled like this, Javi thinks to himself, enjoying your massage, even if it's with the heavily fragrant eucalyptus-smelling ointment. But he can't deny how it's helped his muscles ache less and his airways open up more, and he easily dozes off to you rubbing your thumbs in slow circles along the spot where his lymph nodes are on either side of his neck.

When he wakes up next, he realizes that you'd found the portable TV that was in the spare bedroom and had rolled it into his room. The ambient glow from the screen helped stir him to adjust in a sitting position, where he turned to find you lounging on your side, napping next to him.

With your eyes closed and your head lulled on the pillow this way, he could see how tired you still look from kicking the remnants of the flu, and something aches in his chest at the realization that he'd not been around to take care of you, the way you so deserved and did so easily for him.

The early evening news is playing on the TV, but the volume is set low, so he sits up and tries to pull the throw blanket up to cover your shoulders.

"Mmm," you mumble and curl closer to him, before stirring and stretching your legs out while yawning, "Ugh, sorry. I didn't mean to conk out—"

Snorting, he leans over and kisses your cheek before murmuring in a gravelly husk, "Quédate dormida."

"Nope. Too late. I'm up now," you lilt as you stretch out your limbs before sitting up, stifling a cough into the pit of your elbow. Once the bleariness is blinked away from your eyes, you see that the feverish flush has dissipated from his cheeks, so you sidle up to him to take his temperature with your hand to his forehead. "Hm, think the fever has gone down a bit."

His dark eyes look dreamy as he gazes at you before he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek. "You're actually getting me hot right now," is his purr, and you snicker when he keeps nuzzling down your jaw and to the base of your neck.

"You're not getting any until you're feeling better, Javi," you murmur with irrevocable authority as you nudge him back and make him lie down so you can climb over him while you announce, "Dinner's been ready. Are you hungry?"

Javier loops your waist with his arm and hauls you back into bed. "I'm starving for you, mandona," he croons as he cuddles you and grazes mustachioed kisses into your neck. "Let me show you just how much better I feel—"

"Ah, Javi—your lips are all crackly and dry," you object goofily and wrestle him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and thwart his sexy advances. His mouth frowns woefully, so you snicker and coo, "Ay, no me mires así, bebito."

"Ugh, fine," Javi huffs in defeat and flops grumpily under you.

However, your dazzling smile and loving caress along his forearms makes it hard for him to keep the brooding façade up. And when you lean down and pepper soft kisses along his face, he relaxes totally. So much so, you're able to go plate dinner and bring it back on the serving tray you set up on the center of the bed so you can eat together.

While in mid-chew, you notice the duty-free shopping bag tucked in the corner again, so after you swallow, you ask him, "What's in the bag?"

He follows your glance, and smirks around his current mouthful. Washing it down with a gulp of water, he replies, "That, is a gift for you. And the likely cause for this fucking flu I caught."

When he gestures with his chin for you to go ahead and take a look, you amble off the bed and retrieve the bag. You pull out a very large and elegant rattan beach tote with smooth tan leather handle straps and tropical-patterned linen-lined interior.

"Figured it would make for a perfect beach tote for that seashore adventure you promised," Javier charmingly muses when you smile over at him.

"This is lovely," you gush, leaning over and kissing him sultrily on the lips. "Thank you."

With a smug grunt, he grumbles daringly, "I thought my lips were too crackly—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you, malcriado."

And you do, kissing him on his lips, cheeks, and all over while he chuckles.

After finishing dinner, you join Javi for a quick hot shower, surprising him with the bouquet of dried eucalyptus stems you've hung from the nozzle. It's an old rustic remedy – using eucalyptus in a hot bath or steamy shower to diffuse the invigorating scent to help with nasal congestion and increasing blood flow in blood vessels. But Javi had never been a fan of it, especially when he was a kid and every woman in his family would slather the stuff on him over any ailment.

"Ugh, c'mon!"

"They'll help with your congestion!"

"Are you feeling congested still?"

"Yes, actually—"

"Ok. Fine—"

"I promise it will help, gruñón," is your flirty assurance as you tow him into the shower stall with you once the hot water and steam is going.

His surly grumble was softened by his smirk and irreverent head shake.

In the end, you were right, and the fragrant steam saturated his skin and made it easy to take deep breaths in without coughing or sneezing. The pressure in his sinuses decreased, and he was definitely enjoying you soaping him up and rubbing his tired muscles. It did wonders for you too, relieving the congestion still lingering in your chest and alleviating your coughing for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, while he's getting into a gray pair of sleep bottoms, you strip the bed and dress it with fresh sheets before getting out a nice blue quilt from the closet. He comes over and helps you toss it onto the bed so it's arranged evenly on the surface. Pleased, you go over and playfully guide him backward to sit on his side of the bed before dutifully giving him the next dose of medicine that will help him sleep. You then return from the bathroom with your container of Vaseline and glide a dab-size of it with your little finger over his chapped lips before tucking him under the comforter. He caresses down the curve of your waist to squeeze your nightgown-clad hip, smiling when you lean down and kiss his forehead.

"Be right back," you tell him before going to shut the lights off and make sure the doors are locked. You return to the cool bedroom, with another glass of water for him and a backup box of tissues, to find him rummaging under the comforter in search for the TV remote. Snickering, you walk over and pick it up from the top of the TV set and walk over to hand it to him.

"What would I ever do without you," he schmoozes in that honeyed baritone way that always makes you grin girlishly, especially combined with his flirty caress of your tush before giving it a squeeze.

Pursing your lips saucily at him, you set the glass down on the remaining free corner within reach for him on the nightstand, as you simper, "According to Steve? Probably starve and 'sweat out the flu with whiskey', among other things."

"He's such a narc," Javi laconically sneers, but his mischievous smile widens when you playfully swat his hand.

Shaking your head amusedly, you go to open the drawer to store the tissue box. "I think it's great how you two are a platonic married couple at this point—" your wry joke skids to a halt when you look in the open drawer and see a small bottle of lube and a long-lost pair of your panties within easy reach. Gasping, you snatch the used garment out and exclaim incredulously, "Oh my fucking god, Javier! Are you serious?!" His big brown eyes widen as you hold the offending prize up for judgment, comically haranguing, "You freaking puerco! How long have you had this nasty thing, you beyako pervertido?!"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Javi sheepishly drawls, hands going up defensively when your narrow glare sharpens in that commanding way that promises something wicked his way will come if he keeps being naughty. "Since around that time we went to that fancy steakhouse with Sasha, I think," is his answer, and he gives you those damned puppy eyes when he leans over to try and coax you closer so he can take them back, while begging, "Please, let me keep them?"

Scoffing, you place the box of tissues in the drawer, shut it and pointedly turn on your heel to march over to the hamper in the corner by the closet to ceremoniously dump the panties in. Javier groans in huffy disappointment, scowling as he flops back into the pillows. He glowers as you snootily strut to your side of the bed, shut the nightstand lamp off, and crawl under the quilt.

Only, you don't maneuver to lie next to him. Instead, you prowl under the covers to lay between his legs before answering with snarky authority, "That means those were over a year old, you fresco. And, that you pilfered them when you were under the comforter – just like this – and went down on me that one time. Right?"

Before he can answer, Javi feels you blow cool air on his clothed crotch, making his semi twitch eagerly, and getting a gasp out of him. "Sounds about right, yeah," he croaks gruffly, hands gripping the sheets.

Dramatically tossing the quilt away so you can quickly straddle him, you impishly lean close until your lips are a whisper apart before purring, "Good. So you'll be a good boy and earn another pair by behaving and letting me take care of you, right?"

Javi's running hot now, and not just from fever. "Sí, mi patrona," is his cheeky husk, relishing how you bat your lashes and smile, appeased.

Reaching to turn his nightstand lamp off, you hum alluringly for him to kiss you.

His lips brush yours covetously before he rolls you both into the bed, making a happy giggle bubble free from your chest.

After some savvy coaxing on your part, you both end up tucked close under the blanket. The ambient glow of the TV screen illuminates his relaxed features as you soothingly run your fingers through his hair, helping lull him into the drowsy haze provided by the medicine hitting his bloodstream while you watch the late-night comedy show. Even in the chilly room, his body temperature is still running hot, so you make sure not to press up against his form and overheat him.

By the time he's snoring in deep slumber, you turn the TV off, and curl up to sleep.

The next morning, Javier's temperature is down to 99.3 degrees, so after you shower and get ready for work, you make him breakfast and serve it to him in bed. Begrudgingly, Javier had called out sick for the day, and you'd insisted that he take the medicine and sleep, but ended up compromising with him to take at least one more dose, and that he stay in bed resting.

"—Ok, I'll come around lunch time," you're telling him now as you pull on your heels and go to his dresser to hurriedly brush your hair up into a chic twist. "Need me to pick up anything while I'm out?"

"Not a thing. You've done more than enough, guapita," he responds from where he's cozily resting in bed, head propped up by fluffed pillows. The angle helps him appreciatively ogle you as you smoothen your white with black trim Georgette v-neckline with a spread collar and button cuffs blouse after tucking the hemline into the waistband of your stylish black slacks. "You look fucking sexy, so you know."

Smiling, you turn and abandon putting on lipstick to go over and sit on the edge of the bed so you can sultrily glide your touch from his bare chest to cup his chin before leaning forward and kissing him, then pulling back cockily to leave him wanting as you hum, "You're a sweet talker, but you better be a good boy like you promised, me entiendes, bebito?"

His eyes darken with want as he nods and husks, "I will, jefa."

With a gloating smile, you let him pull you back down for a long kiss before you say goodbye and head out.

Javi keeps his word, takes his medicine, and has a relaxing sleep for the rest of the morning.

Thankfully, your morning schedule is fairly light, so you're able to leave the federal building campus earlier than you'd originally planned for your lunch break. When you come into the house and do not find Javier sprawled on the couch again, you smile triumphantly, before heading down the back hall to open the door to his bedroom.

You find him watching the afternoon variety show, lounging with his back against the headboard and a pillow tucked behind his head.

"Well, I can't believe it. You actually behaved," you chortle as you toe off your heels and flounce over to sit on the side of the bed before feeling his forehead.

"You got so furiosa, there was no way I was going to chance incurring your wrath," he jokes, sounding a bit stuffed up, but clearly feeling better.

He smiles when you scoff and kiss his cheek. "You feel even less feverish than this morning. Is your throat still sore?" you ask as you stand in order to take off your tight slacks so you can get more comfortable.

Appreciatively, Javi leers at your perfect ass in the pink cotton panties as you slide your pants on a hanger so they don't get wrinkled. "No, just dealing with a stuffy nose now," he answers as he retrieves a tissue. "I might take something for it, though."

"Ok, good. I'll make lunch so you don't take it on an empty stomach," you're pleasantly retorting as you pull on a pair of lavender drawstring shorts and go to the hamper to quickly separate garments. "Might as well start some laundry while I'm here," you remark while digging into it to pile whites, darks and items for dry-cleaning onto the foot of the bed. "Is everything in your suitcase dirty? I can take your dress shirts and drop them off at the dry cleaners on my way back to the office—"

You pause as you keenly eye the three piles and notice something missing. Laconically, you stare over at Javier like he's a rambunctious puppy you just caught trying to hide a toy.

"Um, yeah, everything in the suitcase is dirty—" he begins to answer as he starts to get up from bed to go retrieve it for you.

"Uh-uh. Park it," you order saucily as you put your hand on your hip and gesture with the other, demanding, "Give them to me, right now, chavón."

His poker face is pretty good when he feigns confusion while he drawls, "I don't know what you mean—"

"Hand over the skanky panties you squirreled away, or you're gonna get it, Javier."

The lewd thrill your smoky command stirs in his core cracks his composure and gives him up before he huffs in surrender and reaches his hand down between the mattress and box spring on his side of the bed. The undies are withdrawn swiftly before he makes a big show of sitting up and shuffling along his knees towards the foot of the bed to cockily place them in your expectantly outstretched palm.

Humming glibly, you tut, "Caripela'o," while tossing the panties in the pile before playfully shoving him to lay back down on the bed.

He has a faux pout on his lips, but you can see the way his soulful eyes are crinkled that he likes when you sexily chastise him. You like getting a rise out of him, too, and really enjoy that he's going out of his way to comply, albeit smugly. Still, he behaves while you go through his suitcase for the rest of the laundry, and only grins when you retrieve your silk nighty from the pile and toss it at him before placing all the sorted clothes in the laundry basket and taking it to the wash.

While the first load goes through its cycle, you make a pot of rice and your Grandma's recipe for Puerto Rican corn beef, quickly plating the meal and putting a hefty slice of aguacate to go with it before taking the tray to the bedroom to serve Javi.

His attention is riveted on the afternoon news segment about the latest crime statistics on the island that the anchor is citing in reference to a spree of carjackings and muggings that had occurred earlier in the week.

"Here, mi amor," you place the tray to stand on the mattress adjacent to where he's currently sat, on the foot of the bed. "Hope you like it—"

The sound of his cell phone ringing interrupts as it buzzes loudly on the nightstand, threatening to topple the pharmacy items now haphazardly stacked next to it.

Shit—" Javi tries to maneuver to reach for it, but you're actually closer, so you go to the nightstand and grab it. "It must be the office—"

"Well, you're out sick, so they shouldn't be calling you at all," is your curt remark before you press the button to answer it with a professional greeting. "Hello, you've reached Special Agent Javier Peña's mobile phone line. Can I take a message?"

Javier balks at you, stunned that you would answer, but also overawed with exhilarated admiration for you and your chingona confidence – that you would unabashedly do something so flashy when not so long ago you would've avoided doing anything remotely similar.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I should've considered that he would be too busy to answer the phone," a raspy baritone with an earthy southern cadence to it that sounded distantly familiar to you answers sheepishly. "I don't want to bother him, so I'll call back later—"

Smiling brilliantly, you turn to Javi as you answer, "Ah, Javier's got plenty of time to prioritize a phone call from his Pop. If that's who I may direct as the person reaching him?"

The surprise melts into instant delight on Javi's face when he can make out his father's warm chuckle. "Yes, that's right. And I take it that I'm finally speaking to the famous Celina?" Chucho rumbles jovially back, making you laugh brightly in the affirmative. "Well if you're answering, I'm sure that means Javier is indisposed—"

"Ah, actually, he's home sick, so I commandeered answering his phone in case it was the office bothering him when they should be respectful and let him rest," you assure in a spritely tone. You go to sit beside Javi as you add, "Anyway, here he is," before handing him the phone.

The endearing warmth shining in Javi's dark eyes for you as he takes the phone and leans in to kiss you adoringly makes you tingle, but you flirtatiously snicker and nudge him playfully from getting carried away and neglecting the call further.

"Hey, Pop. Everything ok?" he greets and asks, watching you maneuver to sit on your side of the bed with your own plate of lunch you picked up from the serving tray.

"Yes, yes! I just, well…it's my and your mother's anniversary today, and I guess I was wanting to see how you were," Chucho's baritone rationalizing is pensive, yet lonely, and Javi internally swears and clenches his eyes shut in upset with himself. "Anyway, you not feeling well?"

You see Javi's shoulders droop before he answers tightly, "Pop…I'm sorry. I should've called earlier. The last few days have been hectic; traveling, getting the flu—"

"No-no, it's all right, mijo. You are busy and living your life. And, from the sounds of it, you're living it well," is Chucho's easygoing rasp, proudly adding, "You have a feisty, loving woman looking after you, so relish it, and don't take her for granted. And live in the moment together. You deserve to be happy, Javier."

The lump in his throat manages to get pushed down when he looks over at you and sees you attentively reading his expression, curious as to what has his dark chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thanks. I will. And I promise to come visit soon—"

"Don't worry about that. I know you're busy. Just try to keep in touch a bit more, ok?"

"I definitely will. Cuídate, Papá."

"You too, mijo. But before you hang up, put her back on the phone?" Chucho cajoles, and Javi snickers in agreement before offering it to you.

Smiling, you set your plate aside on the nightstand to take it. "So you know, you can rest easy that I will make sure Javi calls more," is your affable remark, squinting your eyes impishly at Javi giving you a deriding stare.

"I know you will, mija. And when you can, have him bring you for a visit. It's been long overdue that I haven't gotten to meet and thank you for taking care of my son. He really loves you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family," Chucho charmingly extols. "All he wants to do is make you as happy as you make him, sabes?"

Feeling your heart summersault in your chest, you chime, "Well, he takes care of me too, and he does make me happy, so I feel the same way." You see Javier's expression soften at your words. Fearlessly, you add, "I love him with all my heart."

"I'm glad, and will keep you both in my prayers. Take care, Celina. Dios los bendiga."

"You too. Goodbye."

Once you place the phone down on the bed, you can see Javi is buzzing with curiosity, so you coolly return to your plate of food before musing, "Eat, before it gets cold, chulito."

He blows a raspberry before obeying, and ends up scarfing the meal down with gusto, savoring the fresh avocado he mixes in with the rice and criollo-style corn beef. Once he's washed it all down by guzzling the glass of water until it's empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he sets the serving tray aside so he can stretch out to sidle up close to you.

"I'm such an asshole. I forgot that today's my parent's wedding anniversary…" he unburdens himself, tone self-reproachful. "I had my head in my ass—"

"Javi, you've been running around for days, then you got sick. It just slipped your mind," you console as you rub his bare back. "Your dad is sweet and kind. I'm sure he just wanted to hear from you. He didn't sound disappointed or anything. And, from now on, I'll badger you to call him more so he and I can chat away."

That feeling of radiating heat fills his chest and makes his bones ache with how much your words comfort him.

"You're too good to me," Javi murmurs with genuine feeling, and it makes you shake your head drolly. "I know it annoys you when I say so, but I mean it."

"Javi, it only annoys me, because it's like you're saying you don't deserve to be treated right," you explain, frowning when he tucks his chin in to hide his self-loathing expression, clearly annoyed with himself for saying what he thinks was the wrong thing. You shift to face him and cup his chin in order to tip his face up so he can look into your eyes as you profess tenderly, "You are the love of my life, and you're worthy, and I mean it when I tell you this: You make me happy, and make me feel deserving of love. I only ever want you to feel the same, so when you say I'm too good to you, it makes me sad, because it means I'm doing the opposite…that I haven't made you feel deserving enough."

He's never thought about it that way, and now that you've told him how you feel, all the self-doubt – the feeling unworthy – gets blasted away like shadows being banished by the light of the sun.

You see it etching plainly on his handsome features, so you kiss him lovingly on the lips before nuzzling him affectionately.

The way your incandescent grace fills him up has him hugging you tight, and you smile at his murmured sweet nothings he pours into your ear.

"…Te amo hasta mi alma. You're my everything, querida…"

Your heart sores, and you bask in his passionate embrace, cherishing the moment of serenity with him.

Once you've both become settled, you end up having to rush to turn over the laundry loads, then hurry back to get dressed again for work.

"Get some rest, hermoso. I love you," you susurrate, and kiss him goodbye on the lips.

"Love you too, querida," he rumbles and playfully glides his touch down your arm to clasp your hand as if he's not going to let you go before trailing his fingers away.

You snicker and wink at him before heading out.

More than content to lie back down and rest until you get back from work, Javi lets his thoughts run wild with the exhilarating promise of plans he's intent on making reality sooner rather than later.

Hours later, after a staff meeting to get progress reports regarding the different program initiatives everyone is working on, you're in your office finalizing some reports. It's close to the end of the day, and you're eager to wrap things up so you can head home to Javier.

Your cell phone starts to ring, so you answer it and multitask as you scan your report on the computer's screen. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Reinosa. My name's Ned Fuller, and I'm a CIFI for your auto insurance provider. I'm calling in regards to your automotive accident earlier this week. Do you have a second to chat?"

Thrown off, you lean back in your chair and focus on your desk, already retrieving the folder with all the paperwork from your tote as you answer, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, CIFI?"

"Oh, my apologies! That's short for Certified Insurance Fraud Investigator. I'm actually a case manager who helps flag cases submitted by our insurance offices out in the Caribbean region," the man explains good naturedly, while still managing to fill you with dread. "Anyway, I wanted to call and alert you that while at the local level, there was no way to prove the vehicle malfunctioned without an external cause, when I read the case report, it alarmed me, as it was very reminiscent to a case I worked on in the Florida Keys a few years back."

"Huh…in what way?" you ask, pulling over a notepad and grabbing a pen to jot down any details.

"Well, it was a doozy. Basically, a wealthy financier was driving his vehicle towards the interstate on-ramp, when his tire failed and sent the vehicle careening into the guardrail and almost jettisoned it over the barrier. On closer inspection by the tech lab, they found the tire's strut mount had been tampered with. Turns out the fella was in a contentious divorce battle, and authorities arrested his wife," the investigator retells, before getting back to the topic at hand. "Anyway, while not part of protocol, I figured it would only be right to inform you of the red flag this raised for me, and caution you that if not caused by your dealership's negligence, there was this possibility—"

"I'm sorry. Are you saying that there's a suspicion—that there's evidence that my car was deliberately tampered with in order to cause the accident?" you inquire, flummoxed.

"…Well, on the record, there was significant damage done that it made it difficult to conclude the tire was tampered with," he begins, before confiding, "Off the record? I would say it's suspicious."

The man explains a bit more to you, but you're floored and completely caught up in a ruminating whirlpool.

Did someone…could someone have purposely rigged the tire in order for me to crash the car?!

As the thought builds up an ominous pit in your stomach, yet another makes you worry.

Who would go through the trouble of doing it…and why?

To be continued…

  ________________

Read Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Spanish-English Glossary:

Partido Nuevo Progresista = New Progressive Party

Puntos = Points, as in drug points

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Tentadora = Temptress

Mi amor = My love

Mi patroncito = My little patron

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya = I need it. I beg you. Please, my king. I'll be yours

Eres pinche gloriosa = You're fucking glorious

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Deja con las formalidades, ya = Quit it with the formalities, already

Se me olvidó = I forgot

Reggaetoneros = Reggaetón artists

Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Pórtate bien, y llámame = Be good, and call me

Cacos = Term referring to hardcore reggaetón fans, who are mostly men

Bailar = Dance

Ella es una mamita sabrocita = She is a tasty foxy woman

Claro que no = Of course not

She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa = She's a charming gal, a real big shot lady that's real feisty

Pasarme así = Overstep like that

Gatilleros = Triggermen

Sobrepasarme = To overstep; to go too far

Solo le gusta hablar mierda = Only likes to talk shit

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Acho, que canto cabrón = Man, what an asshole

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito = I'll dream of you, my love. Dream of me, my sweet little darling

Jefa = Boss lady

Doña = A Spanish honorific, referring to a respectable woman; equivalent to Missus

Pastelillo de guayaba = Guava pastry; similar to a turnover

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

El guapo descarado = The handsome cad

Apodo = Nickname

Tan chavón = Such a pain

Canela = Cinnamon

Dulces sueños, mi amor = Sweet dreams, my love

Chacho = Jeez

Come mierda = Slang for a stuck up, moronic person; literally means 'shit eater'

Tan chingona = Such a badass lady

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Ay, no = Oh, no

Con la monga = With the flu

Nena = Girl

Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda = Ah, that's true. What a pain in the ass

Obviamente = Obviously

Ha sido una mierda = Has been real shit

Pobrecita/Pobrecito = Poor little thing

Bendito = Blessed simple soul; a hopeful lamentation

Loquita = Crazy girl

Playas = Beaches

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Coño, nena – no te recuerdas = Damn, girl – you don't remember

Pues = Well

Por Dios = God's sake

Burlona = Joker (female)

No seas tan terco = Don't be so stubborn

Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien = Stay put and behave

Consola [de aire acondicionado] = Air conditioning unit/console

Sopa de jamón = Ham soup

Sofrito = Herbs, spices, and vegetables minced into a cooking bouillon paste

Quédate dormida = Stay asleep

Mandona = Bossy lady

Ay, no me mires así, bebito = Aw, don't look at me that way, little baby boy

Puerco = Pig

Beyako pervertido = Horny pervert

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Sí, mi patrona = Yes, my madam/ boss lady/ mistress

Me entiendes, bebito = You understand me, little baby boy

Furiosa = Furious (female)

Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over

Aguacate = Avocado

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Cuídate, Papá = Take care, Dad

Dios los bendiga = God bless you both

Te amo hasta mi alma = I love you to my soul; "I love you soul-deep"

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 43: Still

I apologize for the long hiatus! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the delay in posting 😊 This is the longest chapter to date, so sorry in advance!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 28,000+

Summary: As you try to achieve peace in your personal life, you find yourself struggling against melancholy and self-reproach during an important anniversary. When all you want is for time to stand still, can you find serenity with Javier in the emotional chaos?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, grieving, melancholy, toxic coping mechanisms, and loneliness. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to mourning, family strife, foreboding threats, and emotional angst. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Boss!Javi, Sub!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 42: Reflection

Chapter 43: Still

There had been a time, not so long ago, that you'd made peace with being alone.

It was mostly subconscious – the idea that you weren't on the same track as everyone else, but after you'd left Puerto Rico at the end of that summer, you'd felt like a different person than the one who'd reluctantly arrived from graduating college. If forced to articulate it, you would've struggled to decompartmentalize everything enough to be able to adequately represent why you'd felt different.

Even after years of working and building your professional life, you'd seldom let new people into your personal one. When you'd worked in the New York offices of the State Department, you'd always spend your free time with Irina and Sasha. And during your brief stint at the Washington D.C. offices, you'd kept to yourself, only making superficial connections with some of the other clerical staffers; making acquaintances you kept at arm's length.

You'd avoided dating during that period especially, feeling lonely but settled. Once you'd volunteered for the placement at the U.S. embassy in Bogotá, the protective bubble you'd crafted for yourself ebbed away by the time you'd settled down in the Colombian capital.

It helped to feel in a familiar, yet different place. But mostly, with your mother's side of the family being so accessible, you'd been able to soften more to the idea of a life shared pleasantly with others.

Ellis had worn you down – quickly going from the annoying gringo you shared an office corner with to a very close confidante and dear friend. Thanks to his congenial wife, they eventually dragged you out to be more social, and soon you felt like a normal, single, professional woman in a big city that still felt homey and sheltering. You dated, but nothing serious that ever lasted more than a few outings – or sleepovers at their place – and you had no qualms about keeping yourself guarded from being truly courted by anyone.

Just when you'd finally felt confident in your space and accomplished with yourself, you'd ended up staring when a cool, ridiculously handsome guy had crossed your field of vision one afternoon while you'd sat with the building's cleaning ladies during lunch at one of the gazebos facing the path leading into the building's back entry.

You'd looked over at the building in mid-answer to something Marisol had quipped, and saw Javier striding down a couple of steps to stop someone and chat. He had on aviator sunglasses, the kind with the amber-tinted lenses, dark hair combed with a side-part that was practically non-existent with how his unruly hair curled about in thick tufts. His tall muscularly built torso filled out the tropical blue button-down shirt while his brawny arms crossed over his strong chest as he nodded along listening to the other person he was conversing with. You were tantalized by the ratio of his broad shoulders to narrow hips, and how those dark grayish Levi's jeans seemed tailored to his strong long legs and perfect tush. He seemed almost unreal – a throwback to a handsome 70's stud you could've only daydreamed about.

Gaze lingering on him, you'd been thankful that you were far away enough to be able to stare from the safe distance, and ask Marisol, "Who is that?"

Marisol and the girls had looked over and exchanged varying snickers, and girlish giggles, before the older woman chimed knowingly, "Oh, that is one of the agentes de la DEA. Has made quite a reputation for himself, eh, girls?"

You couldn't get over how handsome he was and how he looked out of place for the buttoned-up vibe of the consulate, but really what got you was how he had a jawline for days. Quickly, all your pining from afar accelerated to lust when you admired how his full lips had pulled into a wry smirk before he tipped the sunglasses down amusedly at something the other person had said, which gave you a view at the way his smile made his eyes crinkle.

Heat had radiated in the apples of your cheeks as you'd feigned aloofness before going back to the conversation, ignoring Marisol's knowing smile, with aplomb.

It'd been the first time your pulse had raced for someone since…well since a time you'd worked very hard to put behind you, so it'd given you pause.

What a silly thing. Crushing over some tight-jean-wearing, mustachioed DEA bad boy, had been your internal scoff as you'd stubbornly shelved the notion.

You hadn't expected for said crush for the roguish agent to become even more concrete from afar after witnessing him leaving to some kind of raid one late afternoon.

He'd marched confidently through the embassy lobby in his army green tac vest like a man on a mission and laser focused, none the wiser to having caught your eye. You had just come around the corner from the atrium and almost got whiplash from doing a double take, only to then end up watching him stride towards the exit in those classic-blue Levi's jeans, a light khaki-colored button-down shirt with the sleeves tapered at his muscular biceps, and his dark, unruly tufts of hair curling boyishly after they got tousled by his thick fingers absently carding through them as he stormed off.

If the woman who'd stood there, idly replaying the smirk you'd seen grace his gorgeous features prior, would've known you'd be the woman who'd gotten that swagger-rich DEA stud to fall madly in love with, let alone gun-ho about wanting to live a life together, even? That he'd forsake the trappings of his previous rakish lifestyle? And that you would end up being the woman who was now unable to see the rest of your life without him in it? You're sure your psyche would've burst into blazing sparks at trying to rationalize it all.

And when you'd woken next to him and ended up staring at his serene, sleeping features in the waxy orange veil of dawn that'd begun filling your bedroom the morning after your spectacular Valentine's Day night, the need to rationalize your feelings did not intrude into your mind or heart. Instead, you couldn't help fawn at how grateful you were to have found your way back to each other. To feeling loved and safe again – no longer content with being alone, and relieved to be free of the loneliness that had been your anesthetizing companion since you'd left your life in Colombia.

To say that the night of the double date had cemented things between you and Javi as being back on track, would've felt much too simple to properly do everything that had transpired prior and led up to it, proper justice.

At least that's what you're telling yourself after having had time to reflect back on it.

However, new worries settled in now, like knowing how much to share with the people around you who'd surely noticed the shift in your day-to-day routine and the priorities of your personal time. Of course, the usual suspects didn't worry you.

Ellis and Anita, as well as Steve and Connie obviously knew. And when you'd called to thank Zoraida for the reservation again, she'd made you divulge, telling you not to spare a salacious detail of the night. You'd been happy to do so – albeit giving her the abbreviated version of your history with Javier to date. She'd been cheekily enthralled to hear about the guy who'd be monopolizing your time, showing not a hint of umbrage when you'd scoffed and assured that you wouldn't pull a her and just disappear on a long tryst.

Hell, she'd even gone as far as to snicker to you, "Sure, like you don't plan on going missing every weekend from now on – catching up on all that fun with your papisongo!"

You trusted she'd tell the other girls so they wouldn't get too peeved with you skipping out on the group hangouts over brunch or happy hour drinks.

So, the only remaining hurdle you figured would require a finer tact around, would be your father.

Still, there was nothing you wanted to let intrude in the rekindling of your relationship now, and by the way Javier talked, his only concern was making up for lost time with you. You were more than content with that, and were committed to just going with the flow – to not putting pressure on yourself or worrying about setting expectations for things to come.

It was your time to embrace the hopeful feelings you'd taken for granted. To enjoying what you'd both missed out on prior: being together without the stigma of ominous judgment or danger.

After all, even that morning, when you had amorously kissed Javi awake, and he'd surprised you by surging out of bed to get in his running clothes as he jibed, "Rise and shine, malvadita. Let's go for this grueling jog of yours," the prospect of being seen with him out and beyond the haven of your stomping grounds? Of taking it to your professional territory by getting spotted canoodling with the DEA's Special Agent in Charge, in and around the Federal building? It made excitement bloom in your chest.

When he'd yanked his shirt over his head and eyed you challengingly, you'd ended up snickering, totally enticed by his suggestion and his debonair airs enough to toss the blanket aside as you'd climbed out of bed and hurriedly got dressed before heading out on the early morning jog route with him.

You two hadn't gotten to the elevator before running into Jodalys, who you'd go on jogs with on occasion when she wasn't going with her group of girlfriends. Your neighbor and friend had given you a conspiratorial wink of approval after you'd introduced her to Javi and parted ways at the courtyard's entry. She'd also made it a point to tell you how hot Javi was the next time you ran into her in the lobby later that evening.

But then you'd gone up to your place right after and listened to a voicemail on the answering machine from your father reminding you of the plans for Sunday, and you'd hedged on calling him back.

Later that night, when Javier had come over and you'd vivaciously taken him to bed, you'd sidled close to him after the amorous coupling, and whispered, "When should we put it out there?"

"What – us, you mean?" he'd murmured, and at your nod against his chest, he'd cupped your cheek and tipped your face up to his in the dark of the bedroom, admiring your features thanks to the scant light coming from the lamp left on in the living room. "I'll send out a memo building-wide tomorrow," had been his quip, smirking when you scoffed irreverently at the notion. "This isn't like the embassy, so, we can be as discreet or overt as we want, I think. Mercer isn't really empowered to do much, and it's not like there's any ethical conflicts of interest. We don't impact each other's departments—"

"Still, it's about keeping professional appearances and avoiding any possible HR concerns. Rumors about us aside, it's something we'd have to address, since we've rekindled things," you sheepishly muse, and at Javi humming in acknowledgement of your point, you add, "I think we'll have to disclose our relationship to Mercer, at the very least."

"Hmm, ok. It'll have to be after I come back from Santo Domingo, ideally," Javi had mused, then detailed his upcoming trip, which would coincide with the anniversary of your mother's death. "—I'm flying out Friday end of day so I can meet with the commander of the operation there and try to be back before that—"

You'd kissed his cheek, then assured, "It's ok, Javi. I…I usually spend that day by myself anyway. Just, promise to call me? So I know you're all right?"

"Of course, mi amor," he'd answered devotedly and kissed you before wrapping his arms around you after you curled into him and sighed.

You were fine with waiting. After all, the foreboding worry that had once hung over you both like the sword of Damocles was no longer there, and even with Javier traveling for work more than he'd done before, he was nowhere near the action. And with Steve overseeing the field ops on the island, you felt a keener sense of security that Javier wouldn't be hung out to dry, or end up being the heavy, or the fall guy.

The night before he was due to fly out, you'd both gone over to Steve and Connie's for dinner. It had been a charming evening, spent enjoying the meal and internally fawning at how cute Isabel was when she'd smile and reach for Javi to pick her up. The six-month-old seemed to be drawn to him, and you'd be in denial if you neglected to acknowledge how something warm and fuzzy tingled in your tummy watching Javi prop her up in his arms while making silly muecas when she tried to reach for his moustache.

And little Olivia was a riot. Javi had told you so beforehand, but the precocious little girl hadn't missed a beat when you'd walked in together and Javi had introduced you to her.

"Are you uncle Javi's wife?" she'd queried and given you a guileless, warm-eyed stare, looking rambunctious in her little blue and white-butterfly-patterned overalls and pink polo.

You could feel Javi tense behind you, before you'd crouched down at Olivia's level.

With an impish smile, you'd began to say, "No, I'm his friend—"

"His girlfriend?" she piped and smirked up at him when Connie comically admonished her while Steve shook his head and held Isabel in the crook of his arm.

"Actually, yes. And that makes him my boyfriend, too," you'd chuckled and winked at her before remarking, "That probably sounds silly, since we're both grownups, huh."

Sitting now on the bench across from the 'Kid's Escape' upstairs and adjacent to the mall's food court, you were just fawning at the memory of Javier trying to suppress a kooky grin at the way Olivia had stated, "All grownups are silly. But you should marry each other so you can be happy and silly together," when Connie sat next to you and pulled you from your reveries.

You'd volunteered to keep watch over the strollers – one empty thanks to Anita taking Delilah for a diaper change, and the other with a sleeping Isabel next to you while Connie had taken Olivia in to run around in the playscape.

"It's going to be hell, getting her out of there," Connie snickers as she plops her purse next to her so she can take a load off.

"But she'll be tuckered out for sure on the drive home," you muse as you smirk at her and over at the indoor playground bustling with precocious kids.

You could see the little girl happily crawling up the tunnel to get to the slide, and it makes you think of how cute she was when she'd asked Javi to help her color in the latest page of her coloring book after dinner the other night.

Isabel sleepily shifts in her stroller, little fist curling into her cheek as she settled back down before she lets out a soft sigh that stirs your attention back at her.

Noticing your stare, Connie can't help endorse in an inconspicuous lilt, "Javi is great with her. Same with Olivia, when she was that little."

Pursing your lips knowingly, you tuck your hair behind your ear as you give her a side glance and drawl, "So you've let him babysit, then?"

"Not yet, no," Connie chuckles, adding, "Up until recently, I'd been under the impression that he was spending his free time galivanting around—"

"You mean 'skanking' around," you interject wryly, snickering when she gives you a nervous laugh. "It's ok. He had that rep when we met."

"I have to say, if Steve had that ladies' man status, I don't know if I would've been able to overlook it," Connie confides as she idly folds one of the baby's blankies into a neat square. "Although, I don't think I could keep my guard up for long. Not with how sweet he was."

"Well, Javi wore me down," you quip, and give her a musing shrug before adding, "I mean, not to say there weren't bumps in the road. Bumps shaped like conniving floozies, for one…"

Hands pausing in their absent folding and refolding, Connie's wide blue eyes stare at you as she whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dredge it up—"

You shake your head and exhale humorously. "No, it's fine! That probably sounded bitchy. Really, there was only one time I had any right at being miffed," you dismiss, but at Connie's curious stare, you can't help elaborating, "Early on, after the siege at the Palace of Justice? He'd been MIA, and then he'd called me one night – when we'd had plans for him to come over, to tell me he couldn't make it, and some woman was in his apartment. She was like, 'How're we gonna handle this arrangement, then?' with this seductive tone?"

Connie's expression etches with sympathy and guilt, as she mentions, "I remember that time. He and Steve were helping out an acquaintance of mine, who was worried she was a target for the cartel and the government."

"Don't worry, I know all that now. But at the time? I'd been crushed. And he'd tried to say nothing was going on, but I hung up on him and didn't talk to him for a while. And then we reconciled after that Tolu raid he was part of, and while we'd been arguing in the car about what happened, he let it slip that he had been with her," you find yourself volunteering, feeling like you were telling a story about someone you used to know.

Her reaction, though, grounds you back in the reality that it had happened to you, not someone else.

"Ugh, I'd tried to set him up with Elisa, but had I known then about you two, I would've never even introduced them! Oh but then the siege happened and she showed up outside the apartment begging for help, and I could only think to take her to Javi's so she could lay low," Connie tells you contritely before frowning as she recalls, "Oh no…on the day I drove her out of the capital, she'd mentioned something about that – the call."

"Oh?" you query, arching a brow.

"I never thought much of it and didn't put two and two together, until now. I guess she'd heard him. She'd said he sounded preoccupied, and she'd simply wanted to remind him that she wasn't just furniture being kept in his care," Connie answers, frowning, as she adds, "That he'd had the gall to gab with one of his girls like she wasn't even there—"

"I knew it," you can't help hiss as you cross your arms and shake your head. "He swore that he didn't even know why she said that while he was on the phone, and that after that, she'd been naked and waiting for him in bed—" you bite back your retroactive disdain and scoff, uncrossing your arms and looking down to make sure you didn't wake the baby in the stroller. "…Good to know I wasn't just inferring things."

Connie pats your shoulder. "Safe to say, he's made up for it, since?" she asks in a light tone.

You huff amusedly, and nod. "Yes, he's more than made up for it. But best believe, if I ever run into that Elisa, I'm beating her like a piñata," you tell her glibly, but your narrow smile speaks volumes for how serious you are.

At that, Connie can't help liking you a whole lot more than she already did.

Anita returns with Delilah, looking a bit harried as she puts the now fussy baby in her carriage. "Oof, sorry. She's all cranky," your friend explains as she tries to get her to settle.

"Ah, nap time?" Connie asks as she gives her seat to Anita so she can more comfortably tend to the baby.

"Yeah, she's just like her father. Whiny when she can't get any sleep," Anita jokes, and you all chuckle. "Did you want to check out Sears before heading out?"

Brightly, Connie agrees, "That'd be great! Let me grab Olivia."

You and Anita stay with the strollers so Connie can go collect Olivia from the playscape while you try to entertain the squirmy little one with silly coos and playful bops of her binky onto her chin, giving Anita a chance to finish her soft drink.

"Oh, did I tell you Ellis wants to do a barbecue?" Anita chimes as she tosses her finished cup into a nearby trash receptacle. "I'm going to invite Connie, too."

Smiling, you chit chat some more until Connie returns with Olivia in tow.

The mall outing was a nice way to spend the morning, and by the time you're exiting the department store, you're all agreeing to coordinating a good day to hang for the barbecue.

On the drive home after dropping Anita and the baby off, you can't help reminisce on the other night. Of how nice it'd been to stroll from Steve and Connie's to Javier's house a block or so away, walking hand in hand in the cool night air. The sound of the coquí filled the ambient hum over the breeze as you both talked, and served as the main nocturnal chorus once you both got into his bungalow. You hadn't finished placing your purse onto his dresser before he'd come up behind you and wrapped you up in his arms.

The sex had been ardent and magnificent after such an emotionally fulfilling week.

Javi had made you feel like the most sumptuous, scrumptious being as he unspooled pleasure from you with every part of him. His lips, hands, the press of him spreading you out into a pliant, writhing thing underneath him while he fucked you with all the passion that blazed in his heart and burned in his veins for you while he husked sweet, fervent things to you had been your undoing. He'd made you reach bliss so many times that night, you'd been quivering – reduced to a sinewy vessel, burned down to embers. But when you'd sobbed his name and begged him to make you his, new life had tingled through your nerve endings and pulsed in your core from how fierce and carnally he'd stared down at you as he'd reached his climax.

You're thinking of how his mouth had fallen open on his shout of ecstasy as he'd thrust home into your fluttering sheath and surged down to bury his wrecked whine into your neck as he spilled his orgasm deep, and the sense-memory of it has need blooming like a throbbing ache between your thighs, as you drive. It has you yearning for Javi, and having to remind yourself it's only been a day since you've been apart.

Annoyed with yourself, your mind wanders back to spending the night at his place, post-mind-blowing coupling.

Javier had reasoned with you beforehand to stay over, and you'd happily been cajoled into bringing a travel bag with a change of clothes for work the next day. He'd gone to the trouble to make his place immaculate and stocked the fridge with your favorite juices and drinks, which you couldn't help melt over.

Your infatuation has you thinking now of the quirky thing Javi did, as you pull into the driveway to your condo and punch in the security keycode.

After taking a soothing shower together and affectionately lotioning each other up with some silky cream you had in your travel tote, Javier had gone to the kitchen to get you a glass of water while you dreamily sat under the sheet on the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, idly massaging the remnants of the lotion you'd used on the rest of your body along your arms. He'd come in, rounded the bed to the unoccupied side, placed the glass of water on the nightstand, then gone to shut the light off in the hall before tugging the towel around his hips off to be tossed into the bathroom before going to where you were under the sheet and lifting it to bossily, albeit affectionately, herd you to glide over to the opposite side of the bed as he climbed in after you.

You'd been so tired that you'd just exhaled an amused huff, greedily chugged half the water in the glass, and flopped down to curl into him after he'd shut the bedside lamp off on his side and pulled the rest of the covers up to snuggle up with you.

Riding up in the elevator now, it dawns on you.

Javier has always made sure to put himself between you and the door.

He's done it since you'd first been together. You'd not noticed before since you'd always absently preferred sleeping on the left side of the bed, and your place and Javi's back in Bogotá – hell, even his crash house in Medellín and the hotel room in Cartagena – had the doorway closer to the right side of the bed. But here? Your condo and his place's bedroom had the doors close to the left side.

Awestruck, you wander down to your door and key in, floored by the realization that Javier has always been compelled – maybe hardwired, even – to put himself between you and possible danger.

It makes butterflies flutter in your tummy the more you think about it.

The reveries of all the ways Javi's made you feel worthy and precious fill your head and keep you in a daydreamy bubble the rest of the day as you busy yourself with chores.

Javier, on the flipside, is trying to make heads and tails of what's before him in this latest anti-cartel crusade that he'd signed up for.

At the time, what no one knew, and what he was starting to suspect, was that the drug trade network between the islands of the Greater Antilles were supplied by several cartel factions in Central America. The biggest distributor, the Gulf cartel, had shipping lanes mapped into the Caribbean for years. And even though things in the Sinaloan, Guadalajaran, and Juárez plazas had become a veritable civil war, the coastal factions eked out revenue focusing on pumping marijuana, heroin and cocaine into the Caribbean, avoiding the hassle of increased boarder security and aggressive surveillance from the U.S.

Instead of 'trampolining' product over the boarder like Amado had perfected, traffickers in the Gulf cartel were applying a 'slingshot' style tactic for transporting the product to the network across the islands. That, however, required establishing partnerships with local gangs, who by coercion, bribery, or intimidation, succeeded in moving the drugs throughout their territory.

Junior Capsula's crew had been the best at cornering the market on the larger islands, and with time, he'd kowtowed rival factions to falling in line and working for him and his other capos. Nowhere was that more prevalent than in the Dominican Republic.

After getting the leads from his contacts, Nic Lopez had briefed Javier on how La Familia got their inventory for local trafficking from Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic. A few calls and a lot of political compromise later, and Javier had coordinated a joint taskforce with the authorities there, so he and Nic flew out Friday to hit the ground running.

The plan was to find the pipeline there and turn the spigot off, or at the very least isolate who the players were and who they used to ferry the product and cash to the network of public housing points, just like what was found at the crime scene at the caserío hit.

Javier's counterpart was the head of the Dominican Republic's Dirección Nacional de Control de Drogas, aka their version of the Colombian National Police that specialized in drug enforcement. A man known as Comandante Ayala. His first impression of him was good, but he'd learned never to let first impressions dissuade him of a sad truth:

Most men could be bought. No matter how pious, or principled they're lauded to be.

One thing he did to give Javier a hopeful outlook, though, was confirm a few things only the well-connected knew: José Figueroa Agosto had ties on both islands. The narco wannabe kingpin had homes all over the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, tons of luxury cars, boats – and deep pockets for bribes.

No matter how many busts or seizures were undertaken, how many drug points or transport operations were dismantled, the inconspicuous thug was always ahead. Nothing had been making a dent. But, curiously, the massacre at the public housing complex had shaken some partners. Enough to make them gripe to those who didn't mind passing the complaints along to diligent and crafty guys like Nic Lopez.

At dinner, when it was just the two of them in the crowded cantina across from the military base they were staying in, Nic had confirmed what had now become the most obvious.

"…There's some other pipeline of distribution. Maybe someone in the syndicate is trying to mobilize everything to flow from that rather than out of Santo Domingo? It would explain why no reprisals have happened," is the intrepid agent's musing as he swirls his tequila idly. "That bust in St. Thomas? It could be from that other stream—"

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking," Javi cuts in before downing the rest of his whiskey, letting the burn of the amber liquid temper his next statement. "Or, it could be a diversion. Their attempt at 'diversifying the portfolio.' Cali did the same thing, with Medellín, with the Sinaloans…"

It was a possibility. Really, anything was. Still, it didn't give him or Nic much comfort.

Deciding to call it a night not soon after, they both returned to the private dorms they'd been given to stay in for the next couple of days.

Once showered and in a pair of dark green boxers, Javi stretched out on the narrow bed against the wall to lounge in the direction the window-unit air conditioner was undulating cold air, and let himself unwind. Closing his eyes, he let his mind relax.

Of course, it wanders over to thinking of you.

He remembers how good it'd been to wake up with you in his bed the other morning. How wonderful the night before had been.

A primal yearning had pulsed beseechingly within him at watching you with Steve's kids. You hadn't missed a beat at contending with Olivia and her precocious questions. No matter how silly or nosy. He swore she got that trait from Steve. But he couldn't muster an ounce of umbrage when it came from the adorable little girl.

The image of you holding Isabel and smiling at the way she yawned before resting her head on your shoulder flashed across his mind's eye now, making that effervescent feeling expand behind his sternum and heat his blood. It had him aching in his chest for the future – for what it would feel like to look upon you while you held your future first-born, to cuddle and smile lovingly down at his child.

Was it a wonder that he could barely think straight the rest of the evening you all chit-chatted around the coffee table? Coloring with Olivia before she'd been herded to bed had been the only way he could keep from staring at you with want in his dark eyes. Hell, the urge to claim you had been so intoxicating that he'd almost considered coming up with an excuse for you two to leave abruptly. He'd even debated about taking a sleeping Isabel from your arms in order to hand her to Connie so he could grab your hand and tow you away back to his place already.

As soon as you'd made the overture to call it a night, Javier had been burning with a feral, primordial need for you. He'd barely contained his impulses on the stroll home, but the moment you were in his bedroom, Javi's restraint dissolved, and he'd been on you – stripping you with deft hands while his mouth claimed yours.

Parting ways the next morning had weighed on him more than he'd expected, especially knowing what you would be dealing with.

He'd called you that first night in Santo Domingo, and you'd told him the plans you'd confirmed with your father for Sunday. You'd been so tired from the workday, though, that when you'd stifled a sleepy yawn, Javier had insisted you go to bed, and promised to call you every night.

You'd needed to keep yourself occupied. The chores had helped, and so did fawning over Javier most of the day. Hell, even now, you sighed dreamily after staring over at the lovely bouquet he'd given you for Valentine's Day. It was sitting in the vase at the center of your glass dining table, still looking vibrant and lush thanks to your doting to keep the roses and lilies luscious as long as possible.

But now that you'd finished with the last 'to-do' – having just folded up the ironing board after leaving the starching and steaming for last to do while the TV played the evening news, you were just resigning yourself to the melancholy waiting for you, when the house phone rang.

Picking it up from the base as you simultaneously grabbed the remote from the side table, you turned the TV off as you pressed the button to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, hermosa. How're things?"

You feel that beaming, tingly glee crest up in you at the sound of his canela-spiced baritone.

"Better, now that you've called," you tell him with genuine delight as you shut the lamp off in the living room and start to lope down the hall towards your bedroom. With a sigh, you murmur, "I miss you. Been thinking about you all day."

"Oh?" he purrs in that roguish tone that hints at intrigue.

"Mmhmm. After this week, can you blame me?" you flirt now, entering your room after switching the hall light off.

"Not at all, especially since I miss the hell out of you too, and have my mind wandering. I was just remembering how sexy you looked in that little jogging outfit from the other day. Among other things," he chuckles in a velvety rasp that has arousal tickling warmth into your core.

Tossing yourself onto your cozy bed, you chime casually, "On the drive home from spending the day at the mall with the girls? I kept replaying the other night."

You expect him to take the bait you just so meatily dangled for him, but instead, Javi hums, "Have fun shopping?"

Pursing your lips to stifle your goofy huff, you roll to adjust your lounging position on the bed so you can sit up against your propped pillows. "Yes. Oh! We have tentative plans to go over to Ellis and Anita's for a barbecue. Us girls will coordinate on the date and let you boys know," you tell him spiritedly, smiling when you hear him hum a pleased grunt. "How're things there? I don't imagine you and Nic had enough time to go sightseeing around the capital?"

"Pfft, not in the least. It's bustling, and the base is close to the shoreline, but aside from some government office meetings, all we've seen a lot of is the cantina and the taskforce headquarters," he retorts, and you can hear him shifting onto a bed before he lets out a relaxed exhale. "We're going to Punta Cana in the morning to ride along on a raid. I have a meeting at the Fortaleza Wednesday morning., so I'll have to be back by then. Hopefully we get the intel we need from here quick," is his remark before he tentatively asks, "Everything still on? I mean, you and your father are still spending the day together?"

With a sigh, you absently toy with a few strands of hair as you reply, "Yes. I'm meeting him in Dorado."

He hums, and you can sense he's being cautious, not wanting to linger on the topic for fear it could trigger your melancholy. It actually makes your heart twinge – knowing how much he cares.

Javier is thinking of a delicate way to ask whether you really would spend the day alone on the anniversary of your mother's death, when he hears the shifting of the pillows you're lounging on, as if you'd just stretched out.

"So, what're you wearing, papisongo?"

Heat flares from his apex to radiate arousal into his loins at your seductive query.

Stretching to lie on the bed so he can rest his head on the pillows, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear, Javi adjusts himself, already feeling want pool in his core and fill out his length. He licks his bottom lip before rumbling, "Just a pair of boxers—"

"Oh?" you purr in his ear, and the timbre is playful, full of promise. "Paint me a picture, stud."

He gets rock-hard at the petition.

With a gravelly hum, he drawls, "Not much to paint, guapita. I'm in a military dorm room, on a narrow bed that's more of a cot than anything, and lying on it so the air conditioner can fan on me. This Caribbean heat is something else."

You chuckle at that.

"Which boxers?" is your melodious ask.

Smirking, he tucks his hand behind his head to stretch more comfortably while his other palm caresses down his torso languidly. "The dark green ones," he answers before scoffing at himself, admitting, "Christ, you're getting me worked up already…"

"Tell me, Javi," is your smoky murmur that sends a charge of pulsing desire to throb in his cock.

Palming himself over his boxers, he closes his eyes and lets out a raspy exhale. "I'm so fucking hard. You got me turned on, wishing you were touching me right now," he tells you in a husky pitch. His hand slips below the waistband to stroke his heavy erection, and a shiver goes up his spine when you hum a pleased sound of approval. "W-What're you wearing, mi amor?"

Looking down at your worn, oversized plum t-shirt and the slouchy sleep shorts your fingers paused skimming along the crotch of, you bite your lip before fibbing in a sultry chime, "I'm wearing the red lace teddy."

Javier blows a raspberry at your answer before grumbling freshly, "Yeah fucking right. C'mon, what do you really have on?"

Snickering, you gripe, "Nothing sexy—"

"I doubt that. Anyway, you gotta paint a picture for me too, seductora," is Javi's puckish drawl that has thrill pulsing warmth between your thighs.

"It's a ratty and baggy sleep set, chavón. I'm laying on my bed, thinking of you looking like a sexy centerfold and touching myself. Does that do it for you?" is your haughty mutter, expecting him to snort at you.

Instead, he lets out a husky hum that sends a tickle down to your core, before he sets it aflame with, "Mmm, it does, naughty girl. Tell me: you grinding that sweet little clit, thinking about me?"

Clenching your thighs around your hand to rut against the heel of your palm, you let out a breathy mewl while your other hand keeps the phone to your ear. You get wet, picturing Javi naked and stretched out on his back as he pleasures himself for you. "Yes. Yes, Javi. Wish I could watch you, like that time. Wanna see you get yourself off for me," you're telling him as you slip your hand beneath your shorts and start to circle your fingertips over the hood of your clit before grinding just the right amount of pressure that has you aching for climax.

You can just make out the sound of him shifting over the covers of the bed he's lying on over his gruff swear of, 'Fuck,' before you whine, "Javi, talk to me."

Javier's just finished hastily kicking off his boxers so he can pleasure himself without the barrier of them stifling the vigor of his stroking. And at your needy order, he audibly spits in his hand before fisting his cock, groaning at the added glide. "You got me jacking off like a hard-up fucker, bravita. F-Fuck, wish I was with you. Need to feel you, smell you, taste how wet you are—" at your flitty mewl, he bares his teeth from how hard he squeezes himself and husks, "You like that, baby? Knowing how fucking bad I wanna drop to my knees and bury my face in your pussy?"

"Oh Javi!" your cry of bliss shoots electricity through him and has him chasing his orgasm. It snaps loose within the tangled pleasure in his apex when you beg, "Please, I need you, mi rey—"

"Dios mío, Celina—!" he croaks out as his wits are stolen from him when his hand mindlessly strokes him into rapturous completion. So much so, that he doesn't even realize he growls in a pitched baritone, "I'm coming—f-fuck, m'coming!" as he spills his climax, shooting thick ropes of pearly seed to coat his stomach.

The sound you let out at hearing him reach ecstasy and being propelled by it into your own searing orgasm anchors Javier back from the fuzzy afterglow to coo in a velvety husk, "Such a good girl. Sound so sexy and sweet, coming hard for me like that. Helping me get off so fucking good."

In a warm, tremulous fog, you lie in a relaxed heap on your bed, languidly gliding your touch through the slick damp of your climax as it seeps into the crotch of your shorts. "Yeah?" you dreamily lilt, and at his mellow hum of confirmation, you smile and silkily sigh, "How good, mi cariñito?"

He lets out a sated, humored exhale from deep in his chest, before purring over the line, "Got me laying here on this glorified cot, naked and covered in my cum, still buzzing. That's how good, malvadita. Can't move yet…"

The image he conjures has delight zinging through you. "Sounds like a delicious sight. Wish I was there to take care of you," is your sultry murmur. He grunts drolly at that, so you tell him, "I kept my pjs on, but now my shorts are damp; fingers are all slick—"

He groans, as if lamenting he can't be there to do anything about it. You snicker, wiping your digits on the pant leg of your shorts before using the back of your hand to push your hair away from your forehead, chiming, "How you feeling over there, hm?"

"Hmph, like a dirty perv," is his deadpan, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his tone. "Shit, I needed that. Been tense. Felt good – having the release," he tells you in a relaxed murmur, then adds acerbically, "And I've been too sore to hit the gym since that insane jog you took me on—"

"Hah, oh yeah? And you'd been so sure that my 'little jog' would be no sweat for you," is your deriding snicker, loving how he gives you a grumpy huff in response, so you goad, "Guess I'll have to skip the beach leg of the jog to accommodate you—"

"My quads still ache from trudging through the sand trying to sprint after you," he haughtily razzes, and you can't help recall how he'd pouted when you'd heckled him to keep up.

"Well, I did offer to rub them for you, but you decided you'd rather spend the time being a filthy beyako instead," you singsong daringly, squeezing your thighs together idly at the reminder that plays in your head.

He remembers too. How he'd greedily chugged the green juice you'd gotten at the stand on the way back through El Condado. How surly he'd been while you both strolled through the park across from the busy avenue leading to the pedestrian bridge to the residential area your condo resides in. How he'd stared at your ass when you bent over to tie your sneaker's shoelace while you tutted at him about the folly of trying to show you up. The way your sweaty skin had made him buzz with salacious need while you'd both rode up in the elevator. And how amazing you'd tasted when he'd stripped you of your jogging clothes to bend you over the foot of your bed so he could eat your pussy out from behind.

"As if I would've passed up the chance to get you in that 'downward dog' pose," he smugly quips, smirking when you chortle at his logic, so he adds, "I'd opt for sore muscles over skipping having you any day." At your unconvinced laugh, he gloats, "Hey, we took advantage of the workout hormones already in our systems. I know I felt fucking great the rest of the day—"

"Hah, well I can't argue with that. It felt amazing," you cut in impishly while caressing your fingertips languidly along your exposed belly as you think of how content he'd looked after the raunchy post-workout sex, all freshly showered, watching you get dressed while he towel-dried his hair.

His velvety hum at your comment filters through the phone, stirring a warm smile to tug your dreamy features as you tuck wayward strands of hair behind your ear, and when it's proceeded by a yawn, you murmur dotingly, "Alright, I love you, bebito. Now be a good boy and come home to me soon."

A familiar, incandescent feeling fills his chest, making him ache with a yearning and prolonging the wistful post-bliss daze clinging to him. It has him professing worshipfully, "I will. Eres mi vida, preciosa. M'gonna take care of you. Make you come for me, have you feeling as amazing as you always make me feel. Show you how much I love you—"

You giggle enchantedly. "Javi. You already do all of that," is your sultry insistence, which makes him smile. "You're mine, and I can't wait to have you in my arms again, so I can kiss you silly and get you off like you deserve, chulito."

He grazes his teeth over his bottom lip and grunts an enticed sound as he sits up and snatches up his rumpled boxers, using them to wipe the sticky mess from his midriff. "Well, with promises like that," Javi drawls cockily, and you scoff spiritedly at him. "I'll be home soon, corazón. Until then, be sure to keep thinking naughty things so you'll have plenty to tell me," is his velvet over steel rumble, smirking when he hears your charmed hum. "Goodnight, querida."

"Goodnight, mi amor."

You set the phone aside on the nightstand, turn the lamp off, curl up under the covers, and dream of Javier.

It's a wonderful one. You're both together, lying under the mango tree in your grandmother's backyard, the grass cool and soft under you while you gaze at Javi while he sits up on his propped elbow and caresses your cheek.

He's murmuring to you about catching Escobar, telling you how great it was to see him in prison with the Cali Godfathers, watching them all fight each other. That it was all over, and that he had all the time in the world now to be with you.

"What else do you want, Javi?"

With a beaming smile that unearths his boyish dimple, he cups your jaw and guides you closer so he can whisper, "I have everything I want now, Celina."

The breeze whooshes around you both and rustles the leaves of the tree above head and undulates the cornucopia of flowers that fill the yard around you. A few petals get carried up in the current and waft towards the house. You follow their trajectory and notice your mother standing on the back patio. She's wearing a flower-print wrap dress that accentuates her round baby bump, and she's waving at you while cradling the basket filled with viandas and eggs against her hip.

You're just about to call over to her, but the breeze whips around you now, and just as you feel Javier caress his big, warm hand over your tummy – stirring you to look up into his stare and get lost in his coffee-brewed brown eyes, your alarm goes off and snaps you awake.

A flood of warm, fuzzy tranquility fills you as you lie there, trying to keep all the pieces of the dream from slipping away into that obscure haze that tends to muddle the details the more alert your mind becomes.

What a weird dream, you think, but your smile doesn't wane as you get out of bed and set out to get ready for your day.

The smile is on your face now as you sit at the table in the club house's outdoor dining area, stare faraway as you look out at the rolling green of the nearest golf hole just beyond the shade-covered terrace.

You'd gone over to your father's place, like agreed, and he'd cajoled you into having brunch before going off on the daytrip he'd planned. Of course, though, you hadn't gotten to enjoy the savory dishes you'd both ordered before your father was pulled away by a jovial member here and there who just had to bend his ear about this or that.

Truthfully, you didn't mind having the distraction to gaze off and think about the dream some more. Wondering what the meaning behind it could be naturally led you to thinking about Javier, and fantasizing about him in a dorm room's cot, naked and in a rut for you. It made heat tingle up to the apples of your cheeks while it warmed your core with cloying desire.

You're sipping your passionfruit mimosa, continuing to stare off at the palm trees in the distance while thinking about how gorgeous Javi looked asleep in your bed post-Valentine's Day, when your father finally returns to the table and slips back into his seat across from you.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, where were we?" he's asking in his cool, bass-filled baritone stirring you back from the mental image of Javi's eyes looking like dark chocolate chips when the sunlight made him squint after he sat up in his bed and smiled down at you the other morning.

"…You were promising to have a nice surprise at the end of this road trip?" you retort, adjusting your napkin over your lap before resuming eating. "And I was asking if the surprise would be to make up for Camille's inevitable stupid comment—"

"Mija, don't start," your father quickly grumbles, eyes plaintive as he murmurs, "She is more than aware about the importance of today, and has made arrangements to stay at her sister's. So no, she won't be around to make any comments—"

"Good. I'm so glad she's learned her place," you cut in facetiously before taking another sip of your mimosa.

His deep, mustachioed scowl tells you how unamused he is by you, so you change the subject with an aloof hum of, "You mentioned you'd be traveling back to D.C.?"

With a grunt, he nods as he cuts into his omelet. "Yes. I suppose I can tell you now, that I'm being considered for an Admiral position—"

You pause in your noshing and place your cutlery down to give him your undivided attention as you exclaim, "Really?! Congratulations! That's great, Pá—"

He holds up a hand to gesture for you to not get too spirited as he mutters, "None of that. There isn't anything to congratulate over. Not yet, anyway. It's a very competitive process for the appointment. So, I'll be meeting with the chief of naval operations. If all goes well, then I meet with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

Giving him a defiant scoff, you insist, "Just being considered for that is an accomplishment, Pá. It's a big deal, so quit trying to be so cool."

Raising his brows sardonically at you, he deadpans, "I've never had to try at being anything. I just am, chistosa."

You snicker and grin, impish as you chime, "Whatever you say, Admiral-in-waiting."

His chuckle is amused, but he shakes his head ruefully at you.

A pleasant lull passes between you in which you both finish your brunch and partake in idle chit-chat over your second drink before he gestures to the server for the check.

You're just grabbing your purse in preparation to leave after he's just handed the server the bi-fold, when he reclines in his chair to nurse his iced parcha drink before conversationally inquiring, "How're things going with Javier Peña?"

The standoffish part of you winds up like a rattlesnake seething in your chest, but you feign neutrality in your demeanor as you aloofly retort, "Is that your best attempt at getting some form of corroboration regarding my personal life?"

Instead of the overbearing recrimination you expected, your father answers you with a mild remark, delivered cavalierly after he finishes his drink.

"Your acknowledgement is enough corroboration, tesoro. So, ready to go?"

A bit miffed, you take your time finishing your grapefruit mimosa before plunking the empty flute down on the table, pushing your chair out, and swiftly rising before sauntering out from the terrace through the crowded club house – without waiting for him.

Without batting an eye, your father vacates the table and strolls out, finding you sat at a bench overlooking the parking lot.

You know he's testing your boundaries because you only divulge things to him when you're activated and want to put him in his place, but you learned long ago that is a futile endeavor, because you end up walking away more upset than victorious.

So, when he approaches the side of the bench that's vacant, clearly expecting you to tell him off, you look up at him stoically.

"I don't want to be baited by you. Not today."

His stony expression dissolves, and his wide, expressive eyes soften the split second before he diverts his gaze and turns to look in direction of the car.

"Is it so wrong, that I would want to know if this man is making you happy?"

You exhale and stand, gripping your purse to be pinned at your hip as you reply, "You forfeited that privilege a long time ago, so please respect my privacy," before walking away from him to go wait by the car.

With your back to him, you don't see his genuine frown as he watches you go.

While you both drive away in silence out of the Dorado Beach golf club's gated entrance en route for the destination your father had planned to take you in order to celebrate your mother and honor her memory, Javier is walking through the seized warehouse acquired during the military raid just that morning.

He and Nic rode along, but did not go in with the soldiers until after they'd taken the site and ushered in the 'all clear' callsign over the radio.

Compared to Search Bloc, this was a relatively bloodshed-free outing.

"Jav, take a look at this," Lopez calls over from just inside the loading dock's storage area, gesturing at a large crate that had just been crowbarred open.

Coming over to peer in, he's not surprised to find bricks of cocaine hidden under a fragrant layer of coffee grounds. However, it's the contraband found in the adjoining room that surprises him.

"Looks like they were in the middle of breaking down a shipment for local distribution. Notice anything?" Nic queries as they move through the room of tables with the product broken out.

"It's all packaged the same way as the stuff found at the caseríos," Javi ruminates out loud.

The interrogation of the suspects swept up in the raid doesn't net out much, but with confirmation that the warehouse was a stop off for getting the heroin and cocaine from the Mexican cartels, he had enough to piece together some possible routes used to ferry the stuff from the Dominican Republic into Puerto Rico.

Still, the organization was so opaque, it was hard to conclude who of the Familia was responsible for facilitating the operation from D.R. to P.R.

What Javier doesn't know, and what is established almost a decade later, is that Junior Capsula ran the operation that had made him a millionaire, with the help from two trusted partners: Elvin Torres Estrada, aka El Muñecón, and Ramon Antonio Del Rosario-Puente, aka Toño Leña. The three of them had been able to carve out a racket thanks to the spillover from the Mexican and Colombian drug wars of the late 80s and early 90s, using their organization to transport cocaine and heroin from three routes. While the cartels fought for turf and supremacy in trafficking drugs up to the U.S., Junior and his associates took advantage of the bottlenecking and provided the alternate routes needed.

The Caribbean had long been a way station for drug shipments to the U.S. and Europe, but with the increasing militarized 'War on Drugs' along the southern border, traffickers began to look at Puerto Rico as a sought-after drug territory. This was due to the island's status as a U.S. territory, and a major perk that came with it: much of the cargo transported from the island did not have to clear customs before entering the eastern U.S. seaboard. That allowed Junior – who'd began his career in narco-trafficking as a drug-boat driver until 1993, when he struck out on his own by carrying out a hit on a truck driver who'd allegedly stolen a shipment of Colombian cocaine – to build the narco network that had him controlling 90% of the drug trade in the Caribbean.

With Toño Leña overseeing the transportation side, they would use small airplanes to drop bundles ferried from the three drug pipelines, dropped them in the Dominican Republic where they'd be collected, repackaged and moved to Puerto Rico or the U.S. The product that made it to the island would then be distributed out by El Muñecón, who'd supply the Puerto Rican drug gangs with the most territory and dealing points the bulk of the product. Said gangs, like the ones hit at the caserío massacres, would then supply drugs to smaller dealers who'd kick up dues to them, as well as to other traffickers with networks moving drugs up to the Northeast and over the Atlantic to Europe.

In all, Junior's core organization was made up of hundreds of people, insulated across all echelons of society, who helped obscure the hierarchy of the network to outside forces. The millions made went into luxury cars, boats, homes – all under shell company names, or "straw owners" or "jockeys." The latter were co-conspirators with legitimate standing who would help conceal the true ownership of assets, as well as facilitated laundering the money through property and business ventures. They'd do so with 'reputable' facilitators who'd assist with the placement, layering or integration of the organization's narcotics proceeds within lawful economic or financial systems.

In essence, Junior was the mastermind of making an illegal organization that acted as a symbiote for 'legitimate' business entities, developing a beneficial relationship, encouraged by corruption and greed. Which meant there was little appetite to uncover the organization's dealings, no matter how much violence and bloodshed skyrocketed on the island.

Javier suspected there was a system at play, just under the surface, though. So, he and Nic requested to see any deeds, titles, and business licenses with any association to the people and places that had been raided.

They'd been walked into a stuffy, humid back office Comandante Ayala supplied for them so they could dig through everything on the case so far, and for once in his life, Javier lamented not having a computerized way to research everything. Instead, there were boxes and boxes with no discernable filing system piled around the room for the two of them to work their way through.

"So…you take the ones on the left, and I'll work on the ones to the right?" Nic quips dryly as he wipes the back of his palm along his brow to sweep away the already beading perspiration dripping from his hairline.

"…Whatever we do find in all this shit? Remind me to have someone scan and copy it all over so it's on a computer," Javi deadpans as he flips the top of the nearest stacked box off, digging into the cluster of manila folders as he gripes, "At the very least, we'll be able to type into a search bar when we need to find something…"

Nic grunts flatly, already plunking down into a swivel chair by the window, and reading through some files while he unseeingly fiddles with the air-conditioning unit's on switch and temperature setting.

It isn't until he sits himself and lets out a weary exhale that his mind triggers a realization: Jesus. I actually would kill to have all of this in a laptop.

He smirks to himself, knowing how gleeful you'd be to know he's been worn down of his abhorrence towards the 'digital age' you've been foretelling to him, let alone that he'd kill to have the convenience of a file search at the tips of his fingers. Well, more like the tips of his pointer fingers.

While he internally admonishes himself for already starting to daydream about you instead of concentrating on the file he's buried in currently, you're trying not to succumb to the impulse of putting your guard up even more than you already have with your father.

The drive on Route 2 West had never been your favorite, and doing it now when there's so much tension definitely had your hackles up.

"Why didn't you take the highway?" you can't help ask as you stare out the window at the traffic trekking by.

"Because, you can't get any of those off the side of the highway," he answers and points ahead to a cluster of stands just ahead. "Your mother loved stopping and perusing. She'd make me pull over, no matter if it was a sunny day or during a downpour."

You look out the windshield to see the kiosks lined up along the right side of the busy road. They were bustling with patrons who'd pulled over to stretch their legs and have a look at the fruit, viandas, artisanal treats and crafts, or to grab something to nibble on or drink before heading back onto the route.

Unbidden, you crack a smile as the memory of your mother holding your hand while she talked to the fruit stand owner whilst they bagged everything, crossed your mind. It was then proceeded by the image of her patiently watching you while she let you pick out the mangos and guayabas you thought were the best from the bunch.

Blinking free from the memories, you realize your father's pulled the car over along the grassy side of the road up ahead from the bulk of the other parked cars.

"Just a little pitstop?" your father suggests and gives you an expectant look.

You relent, smiling at him as you nod. "But I get to pick the fruits," you tell him as you eject your seatbelt and grab your purse.

"Fine by me, tesoro," he chuckles as he follows suit.

Before long, you're cradling a paper bag with a bounty of fresh fruits tucked in it while you wait in line at the food truck selling pastries and fritters, as well as a fragrant-smelling coffee that has you swooning.

Your father had gone back to the car to drop off the bundle of plátano, guineo, ñame and panapén he'd gotten from one stand, so you had a moment to yourself while you stepped to the front of the order window and requested the two coffees, then stood aside to wait. Hope Javier's doing ok, you can't help think as you idle, and are so lost in thought that you miss when they call out your order.

When you realize it, you rush to the pickup window, but your father has come just in time to grab both to-go cups for you. Placing a few folded bills into the tip jar, he takes each cup and gestures for you to walk ahead back to the car.

Once the bag is secure in the back seat and you're in the passenger seat, your father passes you one of the cups.

"Are we going to veer over to the coastal route next?" you ask as you peel the plastic lip on the lid back before taking a sip of the coffee.

"No, I wanted to take you somewhere special. A place I used to bring your mother to," he answers in a pensive baritone timbre that stirs you to look curiously at him. For some reason, your stare looks dubious to him, so he grumbles, "We had moments like that, you know—"

"I didn't say anything to the contrary," you scoff and squint at him before sniping, "You seem to forget I was around and remember a time when you and her were happy…"

That douses his umbrage instantly with cold water and has him exhaling before tersely muttering, "It's going to be a winding, bumpy drive the rest of the way, so get comfortable…"

Needless to say, the rest of the drive from Route 2 up into the mountainous roads winding up through the lush terrain that makes up the scenery of most central municipalities of the island, is a silent once, save for the radio playing Puerto Rican oldies. At least when the signal would be unincumbered by the occasional flare of static caused by the interference of the elevation and surroundings.

Still, you manage to use the silent drive to gain some docility by continually reminding yourself, He's trying. You have to try too.

You're so invested in your internal recitation of this new mantra that you don't realize you've stopped until he's turned the ignition off. Snapping out of your faraway daze, you look around at the site he's parked in front of and gape in awe.

"Come, I set a reservation for us," your father is remarking as he exits the driver's side.

Bemused, you quickly undo your seatbelt and follow, still staring at the expansive view before you.

He turns and notices your transfixed look and smiles, coming to stand next to you so you both can look towards the almost ethereal view of the splendor that is being on top of a mountain at the center of the island that looks down at rolling hills and valleys of every shade of tropical green you can imagine.

"Your mother always said being up here reminded her of Medellín," is his rumbled remark. "The view is even better from the restaurant."

Indeed, your father was right.

Once you've been sat at the top terrace with the veranda that faces out to the sprawling view, you dreamily stare at how the sunset cresting in the West casts a bronzed, blushed hue over the valleys over yonder, with the twinkle of distant lights from humble homes dusting through the frondy foliage and canopies that make up the timeless terrain.

"Estamos en el campo," you remark wistfully as you admire the scenery, unable to avoid being reminded of the lovely view Javier had taken you up to once – overlooking that gorgeous dusky view of Medellín in early twilight.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the jibarita in you misses being in the peace and calm of campesina life," he can't help jibe before he sips the ron he ordered.

You snicker, musing, "Well seeing as I had no say in the matter, I'd learned to appreciate living en el monte and getting bossed around by grandma."

He hums, smiling ruefully as he concedes, "My mother wasn't the easiest to deal with, but she loved having you stay with her. You came back much more self-reliant—"

"That's because she made me fend for myself when I complained. Once, she said, 'You're not sleeping and eating in my house if you don't know how to be grateful'," is your charge, but you sit back in your seat to sip your Cuba libre before shrugging, and adding, "But when she found me by the river a few days later where I'd set up camp – eating boiled plantains and eggs I'd foraged – she told me I could go back to the house."

Your father frowns. Sure, he'd taught you survival skills from the time you were old enough to talk and retain information, but hearing you inoffensively replay having to put them to use because of his own mother, has made the knot in his chest loosen.

"She never told me that. Why didn't you ever mention it before?" is his low-octave query, intense gaze softening at your dismissive wave of your hand as you finished your drink.

"Because you left me there, so I figured you'd intended for her to teach me lessons like that," you tell him honestly.

After all, you'd been ten or eleven years old, and not unaware of the tension starting to form between your parents, so when he'd gotten stationed overseas for ops training, and your mother had agreed to go with him, they'd thought having you spend that time with family would be for the best. That they could try to rekindle their relationship without having you see any more arguments and fights that would likely occur when things were tenuous between them. At least – overtime – that's what you concluded was the reasoning for getting dropped into the rural hills of Puerto Rico, or left for months at a time to live with your 'Buela in Medellín during summer breaks.

So, the juxtaposition of having a splendid, charmed life at your Buela's house in Medellín, versus the more rigorous, jíbara life of your Grandma's finca in Orocovis, never bothered you, let alone figure into any of your resentments. No, those would come later…

Still, you'd also compartmentalized so many of your feelings towards those times, that looking at the sad expression on your father's face now has you vacantly wondering out loud, "What? You always said experiences fortify the person you become; turns a person to steel towards the hardships of life. That being forged by adversity makes for the strongest steel of them all."

His silence is weighty, expression carving into a stony scowl at your assertion, while his eyes shone with conflict.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, though, the waitress appears with your entrees.

The mouth-watering mofongo con camarones a la criolla – your favorite dish – is piping hot and steaming with the fragrant aroma of the sazón, onions, tomato and garlic that comprise the bisque-like creole sauce saturating the shrimp-covered dome of fried, mashed plantains. You're eager to indulge in the delicacy, but once the waitress departs, you can't help notice how your father just stares at his arróz mamposteao y bistec encebollado guardedly – not making a move to place his napkin on his lap and pick up the utensils to dig in.

Thus, you find yourself sighing, before changing the subject.

"So, what would Ma order when you brought her up here? I bet it wasn't anything with gandules in it," you drawl goofily, cracking a smile when he scoffs and shakes his head. "She thought they were so gross—"

"Which I think she only said so to annoy me, since I like arróz con gandules and ordered it for us the first time we came here. I learned never to make that mistake again," is his snickered rumble as he shifts his chair further into the table and drapes the napkin over his lap now. "Her favorite was the white rice, red beans, and carne guisada. With a big slice of aguacate on the side," is his wry remark, chuckling when you playfully point your fork at his own hefty piece of avocado on his side plate. "It's the best up here. Have some."

Humored, you cut a sliver of it with your fork before partaking. "Mmm, like butter," you sardonically swoon, earning a warm chuckle from your father.

The rest of dinner is nice, filled with irreverent chatter and the delectable meal. After you're both sated and the bill is settled, you exit to return to the car, where you expect to just hop in and make the trek back down the mountain, but instead your father surprises you by going into the backseat for something.

"Before we head down, I thought we could have another of your mother's favorites."

He produces a rectangular carton from a paper bag, and you instantly beam with mirth. "A brazo gitano?! I haven't had one in ages," you marvel after he's handed it to you. "When did you get this?!"

He sits on the front of the car's hood and watches as you merrily open up the box to produce the Spanish cake roll that was filled with guava. With a nostalgic smile, he murmurs, "While you were picking fruit, I got the last one for sale at the pastry truck. I figured we could have it for dessert while looking at the view before it gets dark."

You sit on the hood next to him and offer him first slice of the artisanal roll, which he cuts into with the Swiss Army knife he's produced from his pants pocket.

Once you're both eating the fluffy and sweet confection while admiring how the sun finally dips behind the mountain range and a shroud of stars is revealed in the navy blue of the sky above while the cool breeze flits across the fronds and tall grasses, you spare a glance towards your dad.

"Was this the surprise?" you ask, affection lightening your tone.

"Nope. That's still to come."

Intrigued, you are more than content to drive back and wait for said surprise, especially when any tension between you both has finally dissolved away. You both talked and joked, reminisced about long ago family trips, silly anecdotes, and even bantered about old times. Like the time he'd taken you to see The Godfather in the theater with him, and him insisting it was a completely acceptable film to let an elementary school-aged child watch at the cinema.

"—Movies are for everyone! Especially great cinematic films like that."

"I don't disagree, but do you remember the looks you got from the ticket taker?"

"Looks que looks – as if I gave a damn what some punk with long hair thought—"

"Ok, fair point. But you did take me to Rosemary's Baby when I was little—"

"…That was your mother's fault. I didn't know what it was about," he rasps in a bass-filled grumble, scowling when you laugh. "I thought about grabbing you and heading for the exit pretty close to the start of it, but we were sat too far in the center of the row—"

The irreverent giggle bubbles out of you just before you snicker, "Was it the bedroom scene?"

You're unaware that he has a vivid recollection of how you'd watched, perplexed at the infamous scene. And he can still hear your little voice, piping up with a barrage of questions the entire drive home after the movie, with your child-like innocence, albeit perturbed confusion, inquiring, 'Why all the lady's friends were bad,' among other things.

"Yes. That was definitely not a film for a child. Your mother eventually agreed, albeit amusedly…" is his dolefully sardonic retort as he pulls into the driveway now to the stately tropical home in the gated, beachfront community in Dorado he uses as his main residence on the island.

Once he's parked in the vacant carport adjacent the two-story house with the tiled roof, you both unload the car of the road stand purchases and head into the home via the door located in the interior of the marquesina. And once you've placed the bag of fruit onto the kitchen island's counter, your father hangs his keys on the nearby hook next to the pantry before gesturing for you to go into the living room.

"So, the surprise," he announces as he rounds you to go to the entertainment system against the far wall that the large tufted couch faces, and retrieves something before turning to you. "I had this made for you."

You blink at him curiously before looking at the jacketed VHS tape he's handing to you, perplexed when you don't see any feature film or studio labels on it to identify what the movie cassette could be. Before you can ask, though, he gestures for you to sit on the couch, and after you've sat down, you finally notice the file box tucked in a bottom shelf of the entertainment system once your father has bent down and grabbed it.

"And, I thought you could have these so you can put them in an album, if you want," he's telling you as he puts the box down on the coffee table before he removes the lid and sets it aside.

He sits next to you and watches as you lean forward to peer into the box.

It's filled with neatly-stacked photo envelopes filled with developed prints. When you look closer, you realize many of them have your father's scribbled handwriting on the corner, marking the location and year the photos were taken. Some even have your mother's cursive script. One reads, Celina's first beach day, 1963.

Overcome, you look with wide, tear-brimming eyes at your father.

"I don't think you've seen most, since we moved around so much, but I always kept them stored, for safe keeping—" your father's calm baritone elaboration is cut short by you hugging him tight.

He reciprocates by winding his strong arms around you and relishing the tender moment.

When you're sure you can pull away without so much as an emotional sniffle, you clear your throat and ask, "What is the video tape of?"

His smile is barely subdued as he grabs the VHS and removes it from the sleeve before going to the VCR. Once the tape is in and he's turned on the television, he presses 'Play' on the remote and goes back to sit next to you.

The screen crackles to life with an at-first granny countdown sequence before the beginning of a super 8 home movie starts to play. The camera lens is pointed up at the clouds of a sunny day before the camera pans down and over at someone sitting under a leafy tree.

The instrumental melody of 'Here Comes the Sun' by The Beatles plays over the home movie as the person holding the camera nears the figure under the tree.

Looking up and over her shoulder, your mother smiles and scrunches her nose at the camera, mouthing what looks like, '¿Que haces con eso?'

You realize the camera is held by your father when he comes into view after sitting next to her on the blanket and pivoting it so he can film them both as he leans in and kisses her cheek. She smiles and funnily pats his clean-shaven features before wrinkling her nose cutely at something he says, which from your lip-reading, looks like, 'Bellísima.'

"Most of these don't have sound. I remembered how much you both liked this song, so I had them use it," he tells you, watching your transfixed expression while you watch unblinkingly as more footage from different home movies play.

While the video of your mother wearing a bohemian dress and doing a silly cha-cha dance for the camera plays, you remember that indeed, your mother would sing this song to you in the car to cheer you up when you were in a mood, sat grumpily in the backseat, or obstinately in your room while refusing to go play outside.

Your heart swells with pure joy seeing her vibrant and youthful, as she holds up the basket of flowers she's just picked up to the camera and grins at something your father must've said to her whilst he filmed.

The delighted bubble of laughter bursts in you at the footage going to your 'Buela sat on the front patio of her house, waving at the camera and giving a Cheshire smile when you toddle into frame and drape over her lap, little hands pulling on her skirt for her to give you attention before your 'Buelo comes into the shot to pick you up and hold you up to bounce you in his arms.

Happy tears brim and spill from your eyes to roll down your cheeks as more wonderful moments you'd been too little to remember play out over the instrumental song.

You feel still, completely content – like you've been dipped back to a time when nothing had been lost.

So, you don't expect the added surprise of when the song's ending chords are strummed, for a new series of home movies to play, that have actual recorded sound.

"—Ay Diego. You're really going to mess around with that camera now?"

"Why not? Vamos, bellísima. Give me a smile? Before la fiera comes down—"

"Don't call her that!" your mother chastises and swats his arm, causing the camera to swivel momentarily about the Sunday afternoon sun-lit kitchen before your father scoffs amusedly and resumes pointing it to your mother as she stands near the sink in mid-lunch prep. Squinting impishly at the lens, she derides, "Salió a ti, chistoso—"

"Oh, no. Not in the least. Es pura hija tuya—"

"You're really using that camera for the first time and wasting the fancy film con huevonadas?" is her wry snicker as she goes back to chopping a green pepper.

"Yes."

"Ah pues bien."

"Mami, is lunch ready?"

The camera pans around to focus on the doorway just as you come around from the living room and don't even spare your father a glance.

"Not yet. Come help, and it'll be ready quicker."

"Ok," you say dutifully as you retrieve the foot stool and carry it over to place it down next to her.

"Look, Celina. Smile for the camera," your father cajoles from behind the lens as you stand on the stool and get ready to help wash the rice sitting in the bowl by the sink.

You roll your eyes and look at the camera lens, brow furrowed. "Daddy, that's stupid. Why would I smile when I'm washing rice?"

At your mother's humored hum, you relent and smile, showing your child-like grin that's missing a few baby teeth before shaking your head and going to work sifting your hands to rinse the rice grains in the bowl with water they've been soaking in.

"Ah, look at my two beautiful girls, in the kitchen," is your father's smug, albeit affectionate observation. At your mother blowing a raspberry and pursing her lips derisively at his musing, your father makes a quippy grumble before heckling, as if to the audience, "Rosario, ever the skeptic. Mi bellísima—"

"Ay, Pá, cut it out!" you jeer, grimacing the way a little kid grossed out by her parents being mushy towards each other would while your mother laughs melodiously next to you.

You laugh as the video cuts with your father's grumbled huff before going to the next home movie.

The rest of the time watching the VHS tape is spent that way, with laughter and merry reminiscing. Before long, you end up curled up on the couch, with your head on your father's shoulder, rewatching the anthology of home movies he strung together for you.

When you fall asleep, he lays you down on the sofa and places a throw blanket over you before kissing your forehead and wishing you a goodnight.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning, and gasp after awareness sets in. Luckily, your father had already put a pot of coffee on and had the presence of mind to have a change of clothes ready for you, so after a quick breakfast, you get ready and make a mad dash to your car, heading to your condo in order to shower and get dressed for work.

As you collect your work tote and rifle through it to make sure you have everything you need, you press 'Play' on the answering machine to check the messages left while you were out.

"—Hola, nena! Wanted to see if you were free for happy hour drinks. Llámame," is the first message, left by Zoraida. No doubt, wanting to catch up and distract you about tomorrow…

The answering machine's robotic recording announces the next message, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hey, querida. Just calling to check in. Hope you had a nice day, and that all went well with your dad. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."

Any melancholy that was about to set in was scattered by the light that filled your heart at hearing Javier's soulful baritone voice. You wanted to call him immediately, but decided against it, figuring he'd be very busy.

And, he was, thanks to the bureaucratic hurdles he'd encountered in Santo Domingo that morning.

One thing he did not miss was dealing with the sabotage and stonewalling from officials who should have stopping the traffickers be at the top of their priority list, let alone within their best interests to cooperate. Luckily his lack of patience helped him figure out a resolution.

"—My contact in the State Department made it clear that they would spearhead a measure to increase the U.S. National Guard's patrol of the waters of the Mona Passage. Frankly I'm inclined to lend my backing and speak to the governor, seeing as we're not getting the kind of cooperation we'd hoped for," he's elucidating in a non-negotiable tone now to the government official who'd refused his request for the DEA to have access to surveillance ops data collected by the local authorities.

It seemed to do the trick, since within an hour he received a call from the Ayala confirming he was given clearance to hand over classified surveillance findings to him. While he left Nic to coordinate the handoff with his counterpart assigned to the capital, Javier went outside to get some air.

He was craving a cigarette badly, and was trying not to succumb to the impulse of going to the breakroom and putting money in the vending machine for a pack. So, he checks his watch and decides he needs something to take the edge off.

You're just in the middle of reading over some requisitions while you nibble on a sandwich from the cafeteria when your cell phone starts ringing in your purse. Sitting up from your desk to retrieve it, you answer it as you dab your lips with a napkin.

"Hey, corazón. I'm not interrupting you from anything—?"

"No, not at all," you eagerly cut in, smiling as you sit back down and tell him sweetly, "I wanted to call you this morning after I got in and heard your message, but figured you'd be busy. I miss you."

"I miss you too," he says with genuine warmth, as if he needed to say it to get a load off his shoulders. "So, everything went alright?"

"Yes. It was a nice day. I'll tell you more later," you say easily, more interested in hearing how he's doing than possibly getting emotional on the phone. "How're things there? Everything ok?"

"It's the same shit, different day. But making progress, I think. Hoping to tie up a few things here before we head back," he remarks in that way you know means he doesn't want to give you the particulars. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I just wanted to check in. I'll call you tonight—"

"Oh, Zoraida badgered me to go out for drinks tonight," you tell him, frowning before you assure, "I'll try and make it an early night—"

"No, don't do that. She's been after you to catch up for a while," Javier insists good-naturedly, adding in a rumble, "You gotta tell her all about your jevo and how good he gives it to you, no?"

You snicker coquettishly, feeling titillated by his confident, umbrage-free recall and his ability to make it a sexy taunt. "Mmm, well I can always count on you to remind me of such things, mandón. I'll try and keep it as PG as possible," you silkily muse as you idly run your fingers through your hair, toying with a few strands as you add, "Can I call you when I get in? I'm going to need my jevo to make sweet, naughty promises to hold me over for another night without him."

Javi groans, as if tantalized by your suggestion. "Yes, call me, guapita," he tells you in a gravel pitch. But then he pauses, before asking concernedly, "What're you planning to do tomorrow? I mean, are you going into work? Or taking the day?"

You sigh, tugging on the strands of hair you've looped around your finger. "I have a big meeting in the morning that I don't want to miss, but I'll probably take a half day…not sure I'll be of much use after that, so I'll go to my place and just…just decompress and not be in the way…"

Scowling, Javier feels a pang of hurt, knowing you'll be self-isolating for fear of being too emotionally vulnerable in your bereavement.

"…I'll let you go. Promise you'll keep your cool and stay safe?" is your pensive query.

"I will, querida. I love you."

"I love you too. Call you tonight, hermoso. Be good until then."

He smiles, despite himself, before purring, "Mira quien habla. Take care, cariño."

"I will, chulito. Bye."

The rest of both your day are busy. You're thankful for it, seeing as that stubborn melancholy keeps trying to wiggle its way free from where you've buried it deep down. Javi, on the other hand, is getting more and more aggravated by the red tape regarding getting all the copies of the financial documents transferred to the office in San Juan.

He had a few DOJ lawyers putting pressure on the banks trying to block complying with a subpoena, but he was loathe to idle around for another day while you were in self-imposed solitude. It was weighing on him.

Nic could sense it.

While they both sat eating dinner in the stuffy file room that they'd made their homebase, the other agent eyed him over his can of beer before finally deciding to do some fishing.

"Something on your mind?"

Javi popped a plantain chip into his mouth, crunching on it and shaking his head while he kept his eyes on the file he was skimming over.

"Some one on your mind, then?"

That got him to give Nic a flinty glance before he chewed on the next chip, but this time, he didn't give an answer.

"You know, we heard the rumor. It made it all the way back to headquarters," the keen-eyed man muses, adding nonchalantly, "Must've been a nice coincidence, you two ending up in the San Juan federal office—"

"Let's just keep it to the case, Nic," is the sharp retort Javier lobs his way as he shuts the file's folder and reaches for his own can of beer.

Nic raises his brows and leans back in his chair, so Javi assumes that's the end of his querying.

"…If by chance you needed to head back before things are squared away for the financials transfer, I could stay and oversee that," Nic comments, the suggestion woven into his aloof tone. "No need for both of us to sit here sweating our asses off."

Javi glances sidelong at him while he sips his beer. Nic gives a one-shouldered shrug before returning to his own log he'd been tinkering with all day.

"…I might take you up on that…"

It was the most admittance he'd be getting from the boss man, so the other agent smirked to himself and nodded.

You, on the flipside, are admitting it all to the girls over drinks at the go-to beachy bar your clique loves hanging out at.

Coming straight from work, you'd walked into the bar expecting only Zoraida to be waiting, but were surprised to see Naida and Tayra at the corner booth as well, ready to shower you with gifts. The former gave you another wonderful scented candle she'd gotten you addicted to since moving back to the island, while the latter slid the box of rich dark chocolates you love across to you with a wink.

Zoraida broke the ice regarding the long-awaited topic of your love life by handing you a gift bag with a cunning smirk. You pulled out the very risqué see-through black lingerie – a halter-top style onesie with a thong crotch – and balk at your friends before they bossily cajole you to tell them everything and not spare a single detail.

So, you do. Albeit skipping as much of the tumultuous times of your on-again-off-again relationship with Javier to date. Over a couple of hours and several tropical cocktails and appetizers later, you've dished everything, including the absolutely wonderful weekend leading into the spectacular Valentine's Day. You'd even gone into your purse and retrieved the group photo from the dinner with Steve and Connie so you could show them how handsome your jevo is, as well as give them proof at how infatuated you two are for each other.

"—Ok, he's guapísimo and you got him wrapped around your little finger. Tell us how good he is—"

"Zory, obviously if she's put up with him this long? El señorito Javi sabe chingar," Tayra counters sassily.

"And she said he was a papi chulo when she met him, so what else does she need to say?" Naida tries to give you a reprieve in giving raunchy, salacious details.

But Zoraida will have none of it. "Detalles ahora, doña," she singsongs playfully as she taps the table to the rhythm of her cadence.

You dramatically roll your eyes, but your smile is mischievous as you declare, "He's the best lover I've ever had. I don't think I could be with anyone else…which is why I was celibate the whole time after I came home."

The girls exchange looks of surprise, floored by your candor.

"Javier is the most sensual, selfless, and shamelessly amazing amante – like, there's no one else who even compares. And, he's loving, but naughty, secure in letting me take the lead when I want to be in control, but super sexy when he's in control. I sometimes tease him just to get him riled up to manhandle me – to get all bossy and dominant – and make me his. He talks dirty like no one else I've ever been with, but not like in a meaningless way. Everything he says is hot, but caring – like, he checks in and makes sure he's doing what I want—"

You pause in your rambling admittance when the waitress comes by to check in, and you all politely ask for another round.

Snickering, you continue in a hushed tone, "I've never been with someone who cares so much about me, and who's so committed to my needs, and is so attentive towards my desires and my pleasure."

Naida whistles at that, while Tayra nods as if that is a glorious statement.

Zoraida narrows her gaze and hits you with the question you know she's been waiting to blurt.

"Does he make you come?"

"If Javi doesn't make me come at least twice when we do it, he takes it as a personal failure – and then makes me come with his mouth or fingers," you state unabashedly before sipping the last of your drink.

That finally cracks Zoraida.

She proudly grins and puts her arm around you as she whispers conspiratorially, but loud enough for the other girls to hear, "It sounds to me like Mr. Javier Peña is a keeper!"

You snort and nudge your shoulder into her wryly before the girls start teasing you gleefully.

"Can we talk about all your sex lives now?!"

The girls humor you, regaling you of their recent sexcapades for the rest of the time until you all have to call it a night and head home.

It's a while later after, and bone tired after spending the day in the drudgery of file reading, Javier decompresses with a hot shower. He is finishing drying his hair post-shower and eyeing his duffle, wondering if he should start packing it when his phone starts ringing.

He tosses the towel aside and grabs for it off the charger, dropping down on the narrow bed as he answers, "Wild night with the girls?"

You chuckle, drawling, "Drinks and sex talk is hardly a wild night with the girls, stud."

"Sex talk, eh?" he questions appealingly, smiling when you hum flirtatiously in response. The air-conditioned room is cool and comfortable as he stretches out on the bed in his pajama bottoms, so he relaxes backwards into the propped pillows as he idly scratches at his chest while he asks, "Care to share some?"

He hears the shift and rustling of the bedding as you adjust to lounge up in your pillows. "Well, after the girls nagged me to spill everything 'Javi Peña,' they filled me in on their love lives; how they spent Valentine's. Naida's been dating the same guy for a couple of years. They live together, and she told us how they tried roleplay the other day," you tell him brazenly, and he can hear the smile in your tone. "Tayra's a serial dater. She's never kept a guy around longer than a few dates or hookups. She told us about the last guy that she let go down on her in her office late one night. Oh! And Zoraida has a roster of guys she sees – you know, like on rotation, so she told us about the baseball player that asked to lick her ass—"

"Whoa," Javi sputters at the unfiltered gossip, exhaling sardonically before he snickers, "So much for keeping it PG. And what did you tell 'em?"

Your giggle is smoky before you purr, "Que eres el amante más asombroso de mi vida."

That you're the most amazing lover of my life.

His pulse rushes at that, shooting warm desire into his apex and making him lustful, so he murmurs, "Oh yeah? And what sexy details did you give to prove that?"

"Nothing as bawdy, don't worry! Well, actually, I guess the most detailed tidbit was that you always make me come – that if you don't make me come at least twice, you take it as a personal failure and make it your mission to make me come with your mouth or fingers—"

"Cristo amado, woman!" he exclaims, incredulous smile quirking his features while an embarrassed flush rises up from his neck while you guffaw a sultry laugh. Tracing the inner rim of his bottom lip with his tongue, he deadpans, "Great. Now I'm going to have to pretend I don't know that you told them all that—"

"Why pretend? It's not like I said a bad thing! You can tell your friends about how good you make me come, if you want, chulito," you taunt knowingly. "Or whatever naughty details about our sex life you'd want to brag about. It's only fair—"

"That is never gonna happen, atrevida. No matter how much I get hounded," he huffs in a faux-grumpy tone, but he can't help smile when you make a disappointed little grumble. "I think you're just being naughty to get a rise out of me, eh, malvadita?"

You hum dramatically before chiming, "Maybe," then pause, and sigh tiredly before musing, "It was nice, having the distraction…"

Javi hears the sadness just under your tone, and sits up on the cot.

"Querida…you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just…it's late, and I'm being silly. You get some rest, mi amor. I'll be better after tomorrow."

He frowns, running his hand impulsively through his hair to stifle the ache of not being able to instead pull you close and hold you tight. "Ok, preciosa. Sleep well. I love you."

"I love you too, mi cariñito. Be safe. Goodnight."

The solace you felt thanks to Javi promising to be home soon allowed you to go on autopilot whilst you got ready for work the following morning. It also helped that there was just one more day of feeling the pull of melancholy you were weary of fending off already. At least that was the mantra you were running in your head until someone knocked on your door.

You didn't expect your father to be on the other side when you answered it.

"Pá," you greet, bemused before frowning confusedly and asking, "Did we make plans—?"

"No, I just wanted to stop by and drop these off for you," is his remark as he greets you with a kiss on the cheek before crouching to pick up the box at his feet, along with the sturdy shopping bag filled with the viandas and frutas from Sunday you'd left in your haste the morning prior. "I, uh, figured you would be busy today, so figured I would drop them off before you left for work."

You smile as you take the bag from him so he can dutifully carry the box to your coffee table and place it onto an unoccupied corner. "Thanks. I was running late yesterday and it slipped my mind to grab them—"

"It's alright," he assures as he faces you and vacillates, as if unsure with what to do next. He scrubs the inside of his hand over his moustache and mouth as he glances over at the dining room table and sees the bouquet of flowers Javi gifted you for Valentine's. "Well, I'll leave you to it—"

"Dad."

He pauses and looks intently at you, and ends up being taken aback when you approach him to give him a thoughtful hug.

"I'll call you soon so we can have another paisa dinner," you whisper against his chest before clearing your throat and stepping back with a small smile.

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, relaxed as he drawls, "I'd like that very much, tesoro."

You chat a bit more on the way to the door – making sure not to address the heavy meaning of the day, and you part on good terms, waving goodbye to him as he heads for the elevator.

With a deep, cleansing breath, you go finish getting ready for work.

By the time you make it to the big meeting, you're feeling like you can hold it together. That you could maybe even get through the day. So much so, you get lost in some busy work when you get back to your office, the kind that make you start itemizing next steps on projects, department to-do's, forming an absent-minded itinerary of things you need to get to as soon as possible.

But then your mind becomes preoccupied with a sense of obligation, a nagging feeling like you're forgetting to do something. It's the kind of thing that feels like it's been routine – something meaningful, but no longer an option, and it needles you the entire time you trek back to your office, until it finally dawns on you.

Oh! I have to call 'Buela and—

The thought skids off the track and derails into a deep ravine of guilt and grieving, filling you with sorrow at the realization that this is the first anniversary you were without your grandmother.

It's like a cold dagger that seeps icy hurt into your chest, overwhelming you with melancholy.

On autopilot, you manage to scrape your wits together to not start bawling until you've made it to your car and driven out of the federal campus. By the time you make it to your apartment, you are frazzled and flushed from crying. The muggy heat is sweltering in the early and sunny afternoon, so you're quickly sprinting through the door and over to turn on the consola de aire acondicionado that's in the main living area before rushing to crank shut all the windows.

You make it into your bedroom and turn on the wall-mounted unit so that cool air can fill the space as you hastily strip out of your work clothes in order to sit and curl up into the pillows to have a good, long cry.

Once you've showered and gotten into the billowy dark gray t-shirt dress you favor for lazying around the house, you feel better enough to find ways to occupy your time – or at least to try to attempt to divert the melancholy threatening to have you fall into a grief spiral.

Looking over, you see the bag on the counter and the box of photos your father had dropped off to you that morning, and feel inspired with a couple of ideas on how to invest your attention into things that will absorb your time.

Hours later, you lean back into the couch and finish the gulp left in your wine glass before pouring a hearty refill from the bottle you've half drained since you'd set up shop in the living room.

You place it back down on the cool floor next to you as you shift forward to return to your project.

A short while later, once the buzz reaches your head, you take a healthy swallow of what's left in your glass and amble backwards up onto the cozy-throw-covered-couch so you can survey your progress. The box of photos is sat on the chair adjacent to the couch, and you have several photo albums arranged in varying stages of completion over the coffee table.

Leaning heavily into the couch cushion, you close your eyes and let the chill of the air-conditioned breeze fan over your toasty senses for a few minutes, before grabbing the VCR remote and pressing 'Play.'

The montage of home movies your father surprised you with begins to play where you'd paused it earlier.

Setting the wine glass aside and shoving the now-mostly-empty bowl of chips away so you could tuck your legs under you more comfortably and pull the cream blanket over your lap, you watch as the little toddler version of you dressed in blue overalls and little yellow sandals holds your mother's hand while she plucks a mango off of the tree in your grandmother's backyard. She places it down int a nearby basket, and you mimic her by picking up a fallen mango from the grass and dropping it into the same basket before tugging on her hand to continue over to the next mango you spot within reach.

Sniffling, you use the sleeve of your dress to dab at your teary eyes, lip trembling as you take in a cleansing inhale to try and clear the emotion from knotting in your throat.

You're startled when three knocks suddenly rap on your door, making you whirl inelegantly in your seat and perplexedly look around for something to tell you the current time. The VCR display says it's close to 4:30pm, which makes you sputter as you press 'Pause' on the remote and kick off your blanket in order to then rush to your feet.

"Un momento," you shout as you hastily shut the TV screen off and put the clutter of empty snack bowls down on the floor, and shove the tissues out of sight from the door before you rush over to unlock it and open it.

Javier stands at your threshold with his travel duffle hung on his shoulder while he holds a bouquet of pretty pink flowers in his hand.

You're so surprised to see him that you gasp and stare with flustered awe at him before bounding forward to throw your arms around his torso. A little 'oof' escapes him as he holds you to him with his strong forearm not currently occupied by the flowers or the weight of the travel bag.

Nuzzling you lovingly, he gets lost in the soft scent of your hair and how nice it feels to have you in his embrace.

You hug him tight as you bury your face in the soft cotton of his safari beige-toned button down, breathing in his warm scent before you snap to your slightly wine-dulled senses and stumble backwards to pull him into the apartment and out of the heat of the outside hall.

"Oh my god, w-when—what're you doing here?" you stammer as you fluster timidly, feeling too much of a mess suddenly.

"I took the earliest flight I could. Lopez stayed behind," he explains as he closes the door behind himself and sets his duffle aside by the entry to turn and hold out the lovely bouquet, murmuring sweetly, "These are for you."

Your heart flutters as you take the flowers and slowly realize they're pink gardenias. Deeply touched, you hug them to your chest and stare up with glossy, trembling eyes at him as you whisper airily, "You remembered?"

With a gentle smile, Javi nods, and you sniffle – overcome, when he pulls you close and kisses your forehead.

Pink gardenias were your mother's favorite flowers. You hadn't seen a pink gardenia since her funeral, so to see the gorgeous pink blossoms nestled together now – knowing that Javi went out of his way to get them to honor her? It has you feeling breathless.

You wrap your arm around his waist and lean into him, melting when he claims your lips with his own.

Hints of merlot still cling to your mouth, and he's just realizing you're seemingly not wearing anything under the cozy t-shirt dress when you lean back and look up at him with open emotion filling your expressive gaze, hugging the flowers to your bosom as you idly scrub the back of your hand across your tear-streaked cheek.

Javier's deep brown, soulful eyes crinkle at the corners as he tells you, "I, uh, know you were just gonna spend today alone, so I hope this is ok."

"I—" you begin and immediately pause when you realize the state you and the apartment are in. There are dishes in the sink, mail stacked carelessly onto the console by the phone, you hadn't gotten around to taking out the trash in the kitchen, several pairs of discarded shoes were left by the entry where he'd just left his bag, and the conspicuous clutter in the living room. It all causes you to feel shame.

"I-I would've gotten things sorted if I'd known you were coming today—that you were going through the trouble," you attempt while looking at the bouquet cradled in your arm, before flinching as you exclaim, "Oh! Let me get these in water—"

Bemused, he looks around and doesn't see what has you fretting, so he walks towards the couch and further into the nice air-conditioned space, as he assures, "It's no trouble, querida. I had to be back here for that meeting at La Fortaleza tomorrow—"

He spots the bunches of used tissues and bowls clustered on the floor by the corner of the couch. A quick glance at the clutter of albums and developed photo sleeves on the coffee table, as well as the bottle of wine tucked behind the leg of said table clue him into what you've been up to.

You're clumsily rifling through cabinets in search for a vase, and once you find the cylindrical shaped one from underneath the sink cupboard, you place it on the counter and notice Javier's made it over to the couch.

"Oh!" you fret as you scamper around the kitchen counter on nimble bare feet, and go to hastily scoop up the plates and bottle, fumbling with grabbing up the mess of tissues as well as you fuss, "Sit, sit! I'll clean up quick—"

"Let me help you," Javi attempts as he tries to take some of the clutter from your arms, but you recoil with embarrassment and rush back to the kitchen.

"N-No, just sit and relax. I—I'm just going to tidy up," you're thinly assuring as you toss the tissues into the zafacón, then place the dishes to clatter into the sink before hurrying to put the wine out of the way by placing it in the corner of the counter so you can quickly grab the vase. But before you can pivot around with it to run the tap and start filling it with water, you fumble it in your hold and it tumbles out of your hands to fall with a crash to the tiled floor. "Shit!"

He'd been already rounding the counter to come help, so he now rushes over to practically pick you up and maneuver you away from possibly stepping on any shards of glass, as he warns, "Careful, cariño."

Once he's placed you down in the hallway away from the broken glass, Javier spots a paper bag left on the elevated dining side of the counter top, so he grabs it and turns to sweep the larger shards together with the side of his boot as he assuages, "Here, I'll just scoop it into this—"

But you're already dashing into the laundry room and back with the broom and dustpan set, clumsily trying to disjoin them as you fluster, "I'll pick it up! Don't touch the glass, I can sweep it up and—"

You're so frazzled that you yank too hard, and the dustpan clatters to the floor while the broom bangs into the wall when you finally un-attach them.

A wave of something fragile, yet chaotic, swirls up in you, and you're not sure if it's the wide-eyed gape Javi gives you, or the scalding sense of embarrassment that lances through you now, that caused it to flare up like hot air in your chest. The latter has you feeling at your lowest. That he's seeing you be a pathetic, drunken mess, and that this whole thing seemingly is establishing what a disaster you truly are.

Whatever it is – likely a combination of everything – has you so mortified that you're suddenly letting the broom clang to the floor as you hide your face in your hands.

"I—I'm sorry. This—this is why I needed to be alone. I'm just a fucking mess," you haltingly hiss around the sobs now wracking through you. "I hate being like this—hate you seeing me like this—"

"Mi amor," Javi croaks thickly, throat feeling tight from how a tangle of conflicting feelings wedges in his windpipe, so he exhales gruffly and cuts the distance between you so he can pull you protectively into his chest, desperate to take your pain away, but helpless with how to do so. Consolingly, he husks, "You're not a mess at all—"

"Yes I am! I-I just keep falling apart, and here you are seeing it and s-seeing how pathetic and pitiful I am when I can't keep my shit together," you frustratedly exclaim as you wring away from him and angrily pick up the broom, as you rail, "I can't even pull it together a-and not scare you off—"

Watching you spiral is something Javier is bemused, stung, overcome and activated by, all at once. It rakes up so many feelings in him, and makes him burn with the compelling need to give you solace in any way he can. Seeing it happen the first time – when your grandmother had passed away – had branded him with a daunting sense of protectiveness over you. But unlike that time, you were truly adrift now, and not begging for him to tether you back and anchor you from the volatile, emotional tempest you were in. That was likely because you'd been drinking and had so much grief compounded within you over time, that you felt your only option was to suffer alone.

And he'd derailed that for you. So, he now had to haul you back from the chasm you were prepared to fling yourself into.

The broom isn't even in your grasp completely before it's flung away by Javi into the corner of the fridge and wall, just as he sweeps you away from the kitchen to be pressed between him and the hallway wall at your back. You gasp as adrenalin hits your bloodstream and zings a lurid thrill through you that clears the buzz enough for you to focus your wild stare on his purposeful glare.

"Do I look scared off, querida?" is his assertive, husky rhetorical question.

Brow furrowing, you shake your head insistently as you hiccup, "N-No, but—"

"Celina."

You pause and stare attentively at him now, feeling like a tuning fork just got chimed inside of your ribs by his firm, grounded baritone use of your name.

When he sees your eyes sharpen and your brows rise in anticipation, Javi cups your cheek with one hand while the other cradles your lower back. Your breath hitches, stare flicking to his mouth and back up to his smoldering gaze when he leans in and rumbles decisively, "I'm not letting you get all worked. You don't have to have all your shit together, especially today. You're going to let me clean this up, and you're going to stop trying to keep things bottled up."

Your eyes flutter at his command, but you're already stubbornly starting to protest, so Javier insists, "Listen to me, corazón. You can trust me. I don't think any less of you for 'not having it all together' today," and pauses to emphasize his point by resting his forehead to yours as he murmurs, "It's ok not to be ok."

Exhaling shakily, you close your eyes and curl vulnerably into him. You're so emotionally raw, that you can't even muster words.

Javier kisses the top of your head and lets you relax against him before he assures in a gravelly mutter, "Now, go sit for me. I'll clean this up quick."

He nuzzles the top of your hairline affectionately and pats your tush in a 'hop to it' gesture.

As soon as you've scooted onto the couch in a way that allows you to peer over at him, Javi goes to work picking up the large broken shards of the vase to plop them into the paper bag, then grabs the broom and swiftly sweeps up the smaller jagged pieces into the dustpan to be dropped in as well before be carefully closes the bag and shoves it into the now-full trashcan. Once he's sure he's gotten all the glass swept up and that there aren't any shards lingering in the bristles of the broom, he ties up the garbage bag preemptively before setting the broom and dustpan back down in the laundry room where they're stored.

You watch him the entire time, eyes wide and glossy with your pining, as he moves around the space while the anxiety still wriggles in your chest.

Getting to stare at his divine, perfect fit blue-jean-clad ass walk down the hall before he lopes back to come towards you makes delight palpitate some of the anxiety away, though. The kind of delight that tingles excitement in your core and makes you fidget with the heat of your arousal spiking through you now when Javi nears.

The air from the consola fans across you both, and while he's glad for the kiss of the cool breeze against his skin, he can't help notice how it's not cooling you down at all. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look a bit ruffled still, unaware that you're a bit wound up with self-conscious anxiety and yearning.

His dark-coffee brewed eyes lower appraisingly over you as he gets to the side of the couch – lingering on how your nipples are studding through the clingy fabric of the t-shirt dress. Seemingly mystified with the conflict you're exuding in your uncertain state, Javi hesitates on whether to sit next to you, before he settles his features into an earnest regard, and asks in a baritone rumble, "Did I do the wrong thing? Coming over, I mean."

You sit up on your knees and absently clutch the back cushion as you fluster, "N-No, you didn't do anything wrong—"

"I can leave, if you want," Javi says in a steadfast way, a hand at his hip while he gestures with the other to where his duffle sits, as he huffs, "I should've called before coming. It's fine, if you'd rather not have company—"

Deflating onto your haunches, you swallow the lump in your throat before professing tightly, "I don't want to be alone."

It's then Javi sees the indecision crease your brow, and realizes you're truly at a loss, and not used to being out of control like this; at having your desires in conflict and not having a way to regain your calm. He's never seen you so unsure and self-reproachful. It makes him realize you need coaxing towards stable ground.

"Querida. If you want me to stay, then you have to tell me so."

You blink in surprise, and Javier stands his ground – hands on his hips and expression etched in that assertive way from before, but this time his soulful eyes are crinkled almost goadingly at the corners.

A shiver goes up your spine.

"I want you to stay," you tell him, sitting on the couch with your legs folded under you, but still timid.

He cocks an eyebrow and leans his weight onto his left hip as he eyes you challengingly, drawing out in a smoky purr, "I don't believe you."

That gets the reaction he hoped for.

Your brows furrow together and your eyes narrow. "Oh, really. You don't believe me?" you mutter crossly before scooching to the edge of the cushion you're sitting on as you imperiously snark, "And what do I have to do for you to believe me then, hm?"

Javier smirks as he gives you a laconic one-shouldered shrug, before he croons, "Show me that you want me to stay."

A little fire of desire is set inside you at that, and all your squeamish, flustered embarrassment of before is snuffed out by your need to buck up against his challenge.

The buzz from the wine tickles through you still as you stare at him in that searing way that promises sultry, albeit wickedness, from you in response to his self-assuredness, but really, you're feeling the gumption bubble up and clear the fuzzy anxieties of before away. Especially the more you see his dark eyes begin to smolder with lust.

Licking his bottom lip while you stand on your bare feet and cut the short distance between you both, Javi feels anticipation curl deviant thrill up in his apex. That quickly becomes burning arousal when you stand up to him on your tippy toes and grab fistfuls of the front of his shirt to yank him down to meet your kiss.

He ends up hissing in surprise when you suckle on his bottom lip before nipping it possessively and growling, "I want you to stay, Javier."

The urge to just take you pulses in his veins and digs down into his loins, but he wants to wind you up some more – to get the angst and upset of before completely torn asunder; to be replaced with your vivacious, unabashed desires he's become so adept at stoking loose.

"Hmm, is that so?" Javi purrs in that incandescent grouse that always rakes over your titillated senses like sinful velvet, as he gropes his big hands down your curves puckishly before pulling you close so he can order in an audacious whisper, "Fucking prove it, then, bravita."

An exhilarated wave of arousal pulses through you and has you tingling with desire at his instigating command. You want to just pounce on him, but something daring and needy has you wanting to wind him up right back. To rile the urge you saw flash across his dark eyes earlier back to the surface and entice him into carnal hunger with you.

Javier is surprised when you lean back from his embrace and worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you encircle his left wrist and cup his hand, leading it up your skirt and between your thighs.

"I want you to stay, and I want you," is your silky whisper as you guide his digits to touch your warm and bare pussy, emphasizing your point by grinding your slick seam over the pads of his fingers as you look searingly into his hungry stare and ask airily, "Do you want me, mi amor?"

He was hard when you slipped his hand up your skirt, and he's straining against his jeans now from your provocative question while rubbing your dripping cunt along his fingers.

"More than anything," he hoarsely mutters as he starts to part your folds.

At his answer, you nimbly scamper back and out of his reach suddenly, and Javi's expression is priceless when you grin and lilt, "Then fucking prove it, guapito."

It's so brazen and goading, the way you got him wrapped around your little finger only to then snap him back – to push the deviant, primal buttons that spin lurid desire up in him and have him unleashing all his suppressed urges. That provoke him to dominate you in a feral way that has a visceral shudder quivering through him.

Before you can even attempt to sprint off like you'd planned to, Javier's already lassoed his arm around you and pinned you to him as he grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked it up and over your head in a brusque movement that has you gasping and teetering in his hold. He effortlessly spins you around to wring the material off and flings it carelessly away before he manhandles you down onto your hands and knees to the blanket-covered-couch as he hurriedly yanks his belt buckle loose and makes short work of opening his fly.

You're mewling and arching back excitedly when he drops onto his knees behind you and quickly lines himself up before he plunges his ramrod erection into you to the hilt with a rough groan.

His hips slam into you and cause you to almost fold forward, so Javi grips the back of your shoulder and guides you roughly down to position you in a way that'll have you at his mercy, but able to hold onto the armrest for balance.

Just as you arch your spine to rock back into his next thrust, Javi crowds over you and dominates the hell out of you now.

The air-conditioning unit hums along in the ambient beat of the fan swaying to and fro while the sounds of you getting railed by Javi echoes in the living room, getting louder and louder as his pounding thrusts become piston-like slams angled up into that devastating spot inside you.

"Ah! Mmph, oh Javi—" you cry out, feeling spun up by the sensory overload of his weight pressing into you, his cologne and sweat permeating your own overheated scent, his gruff groans and growls of savage approval at how you're reveling in how he's taking you, and the taste of him now when he plunders your mouth with his own in a greedy kiss.

When Javi maneuvers a hand to tease his fingers over the hood of your clit, you whimper, "Nngth!" and break the torrid kiss to bow into the couch cushion under the onslaught of overstimulation.

Your silken walls clench hard around him, making Javi moan and nuzzle you lovingly before he shifts back to balance his weight and take hold of your waist to ground you both in the building crescendo of scintillating sensation that's propelling you both into a tizzy towards release.

He's enthralled on how you're moaning broken little sounds of ecstasy the harder and faster he fucks into your squelching cunt from behind, and he watches you under heavy lids as you reach a hand backwards to cling to his forearm as his grip on your waist becomes more possessive – desperate, even.

Your sheath is fluttering with impending climax, and the throaty way you begin to beg, 'Javi-Javi-Javi!' has something scalding tangling in his chest and making him wild with the need to wreck you with daunting pleasure – the kind that will make you rapturous and euphoric.

Just as your coupling hits an animalistic zenith, you sob his name before wailing a reedy sound as you climax, gushing your orgasm as your sheath clamps down around his cock.

"Oh fuck—!" is Javier's guttural grunt before he pants a harsh groan as his release barrels through him, stealing his breath and having him buckle forward to crowd over you.

In this heightened state, you can feel his climax surge deep inside of you while his heartbeat throbs against your back. The dizzying delight you experience at the bloom of warmth radiating in your womb has you sighing out a luscious sound that makes Javi melt into you.

Before his knees gave out, Javier wraps his arms around you and rolls sidelong into the sofa's back cushions in order to keep you folded backwards into him so he can worshipfully cuddle and nuzzle you while you both recover.

The post-coital bliss has you blitzed out in the most wonderful way. You're dreamily sighing as you come back down from the stratosphere and affectionately interlace your fingers with the hand caressing your womb. As your body temperature begins to normalize, you feel the chill in the air and the cool press of the steel from his watch's band as the wrist it's attached to rests against your sternum. The palm of his hand is just below your clavicle, thumb sweeping soothing along the delicate skin while he noses into the sweaty hair at your nape.

Dimly, you reach around your side to shift your hips so you can turn to kiss him over your shoulder, and end up comically realizing Javier got you completely naked, but left himself fully clothed. He didn't even get a chance to kick off his boots.

"Oh my god," you snicker before caressing your palm along the length of his jean-clad lower thigh before simpering, "Babe, how are you even comfortable like this?!"

He snorts and nudges his temple affectionately against you as he deadpans, "M'not. You got me so riled up though. Stripping down was not a priority."

You laugh, light and effervescent, grinning when he nuzzles your neck and grunts a silly sound.

"Well, it's a priority now, chavón," you simper between giggles as you undulate your hips into him. "Desnúdate, ahora."

Javier impishly pinches your waist and grunts at your order of 'Get naked, now' before eagerly shifting you up with him so he can comply, laughing warmly when you start to help him undress by unbuttoning his beige shirt with hasty fingers, yanking it open and off his shoulders while he hurriedly, and simultaneously, kicks his boots and pushes his jeans off.

Once naked, Javi murmurs, "Lay back for me," and helps you adjust to lie length-wise on the sofa as he maneuvers to sit between your parted legs.

The cool air caresses over you both and keeps you from overheating while Javi takes some tissues from the box on the side table and tends to you. Tenderly swiping up the spill of his seed that's weeping from your still tingling pussy, he makes sure to be delicate with his aftercare so you can relax.

You sigh blissfully and close your eyes as you reach for him after he's set the sullied tissues aside.

"Feel better?" he rumbles when he cuddles up with you across the length of the couch. You nod and tuck yourself against him, so he wraps his arm around your waist and gives you a loving squeeze, as he drawls, "Good."

While you're cooling down together, Javi combs his fingers through the back of your hair soothingly while you caress yours along his forehead and brow, occasionally brushing your lips over his, and sighing happily when he presses soft kisses to your cheek and jaw.

When you start to shiver from the air conditioning, he tries to pull the edge of the throw blanket around you, but much of the length of it is pinned underneath you both, so he murmurs, "Wanna take a hot shower?"

You nod, but before Javier can start sitting up, you hook your leg over his hip and silkily lilt, "But first, I wanna take care of this," and coax his semi into a full erection with a few strokes of your hand before guiding it to your primed entrance.

His groan of approval is quickly followed by him plunging his cock slowly in before maneuvering you both on the sofa so that he can be on his back while you ride him with sensual gusto.

After the amazing romp, you both take a long shower together, dry off, and end up in your bed.

You're under the quilt while Javi lounges with his hands tucked behind his head and in his nude glory, reclined against the propped-up pillows and enjoying the air conditioning in your bedroom while you both talk. He'd noticed you'd moved the vase with the flowers he'd gotten you for Valentine's to the top of your dresser, so you'd explained that you'd intended to pick out some of them so you could tie them together and hang them to dry out in order to preserve them.

"—I'll have to take those out so I can put the new ones you brought in that vase," you're remarking as you shuffle into a sitting position as if you're about to get out of bed and do so now.

Javi tows you close by lassoing his forearm around your waist as he sits propped up on his elbow. "So you're saying you've kept flowers from every single bouquet you've ever gotten?" is his puckish query, giving you a faux haughty look as you scoff.

"No, silly! I've only preserved a few flowers from meaningful arrangements," you insist as you pat his forearm to be let loose so you can shimmy out of bed, and then go retrieve a large ornate cardboard box with an attached flip-open lid and scamper back with it.

He sits up and pulls the quilt back for you so you can slide under it once you've placed the box onto the bed, and gives you his undivided attention as you open the box and reveal that it's where you place very sentimental mementos – including an assortment of individually preserved flowers. Each are wrapped with a ribbon that has the date you received them listed in your handwriting. Along with the flowers are letters, postcards, and other special keepsakes.

"See? These are from the first bouquet you gave me, in Medellín," you tell him as you pull out a trio of preserved red roses tied together by a white ribbon. He is surprised to see indeed, you have the date and location written on it too, and he almost misses your pensive smile as you add, "'Buela saved them for me."

Javi glances at you intently then, so you clear the lump in your throat and retrieve the next trio of dried flowers.

"These are from the time you surprised me for my birthday," is your musing now, smiling as you place them back and gesture to a few others and recite, "These are from my maid of honor bouquet at Irina's wedding, and these are from the arrangement at my cousin's reception—"

You pause before pointing out the white lilies from your grandmother's wake, and the pink gardenias from your mother's velorio, feeling that prickle of grief begin to crest up in you.

Sensing it, Javi interjects in a searching drawl, "What about the roses from the arrangement I had Marisol leave in your office?"

Blinking comically at him, the melancholy is forgotten as you scoff and snipe, "Nope! I didn't get a chance to. And anyway, all of these I saved because they're to honor the moment, or for me to keep the happy memory, and when I saw those roses? I was livid."

His brows rise and his pouty lips are inviting when he irreverently gripes, "So you would've saved flowers from the grand arrangement that mystery admirer had sent to your office—?"

"No, because once you told me you hadn't sent them, I let Ellis take them," you bossily cut in and pat his bare thigh conciliatorily as you tease, "Take a look, tough guy. Only ones I've kept, are yours."

Grunting contrarily, Javi purses his lips and grumbles in a faux huff, "But someone delivered a whole flower shop's worth to you—"

You exhale glibly and busily organize all the flowers to be delicately stored in the box as you sing song, "Yes, mi amor, I've gotten lots of flowers from lots of guys in the past, but you're the only one who's given me a bouquet and made me feel warm and fuzzy, so those are the ones that matter enough to be kept."

You look over at him then, pure moxie in your bright eyes, and Javier feels that funny feeling in his chest that's a combination squeeze and flutter of happiness.

The molten look in those brown orbs makes you tingle, so when he slides the box away in order to gather you to straddle his lap, you're feeling alight. And then he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you so fiercely that all you can do is loop yours around his shoulders and nuzzle into his neck lovingly.

"I felt the same way, giving them to you," he tells you in a soft murmur after you soothingly comb your hand through the back of his hair and kiss the soft skin between his ear and sideburn. At your loving cuddle, he smirks and nudges his temple affectionately into yours as he mutters, "Show me how you pick the flowers and preserve them?"

Smiling against his cheek, you give him a cheeky squeeze before doing just that.

Once the trio of flowers are picked from the bouquet and you've tied a string around the end of the stems and hung them to dry on the curved loop of the dresser's mirror, you rewrap the ribbon around the remaining bouquet and rinse out the vase so you can place the lovely pink gardenias in it.

The entire time, you're telling Javi about the day you spent with your father. He smiles, happy to hear your sentiments, and frankly relieved that it was a mostly pleasant occasion.

When you've finished arranging the flowers, Javi pulls on a pair of sweatpants you'd stored in a drawer for him while you retrieve your silky robe and put it on after having proposed ordering delivery for dinner.

"—All I made were viandas, so want me to order pizza?" you're asking as you pick up the vase now.

"Sure. Whatever you want, cariño," he tells you and chivalrously takes the vase from you and gestures with a nod of his head for you to lead the way.

Feeling a giddy tickle in your tummy, you playfully tow him along by the drawstring of his sweatpants to exit your room and enter the guest bedroom.

He sees you've adjusted your altar of family photos to now include the silver-framed photo of you, your mother, and your grandmother in the center, with a tall continental candle lit next to it. There was a vacant spot on the dresser that Javi places the gardenias onto for you, and before he's able to move back, you take his hand and guide him to stand in front of the wide dresser with you.

"I dreamt about her the other night. Sometimes, I wonder what she'd think – about everything, I mean. What it would be like for her to be around – for you to have met her," you're confessing in a faraway tone, staring at the photo of your mother before glancing up at Javi and smiling dreamily at him, as you admit softly, "I think she would've loved you."

His brown eyes almost shimmer with how the candlelight flickers across them when he caresses his palm to the small of your back while he cups your cheek gently with his warm palm, thumb tracing along the apple of it as he rumbles, "I feel the same, querida. I know my mother would've. I bet they would've gotten along, too."

The sentiment warms your heart, and makes you lean into him so you can stand on your tippy toes and brush a doting kiss over his scrumptious lips.

All the gloomy melancholic feelings of before have been blown away by the beaming unconditional love Javier has given you – by how unrelentingly passionate and tender and irreverent he's been since he showed up at your door like the handsome sweetheart he is.

The rest of the evening is calm.

After you called in for the pizza order, Javier pulled on his college shirt and took out the garbage for you. By the time he was breezing back in, you'd stored the verduras in containers and were finishing with the dishes. He strolled over to start drying the dishware for you while teasing you about being so flustered over nothing earlier.

"—Acted like the place was condemned—"

"I was embarrassed!"

"Over a few dishes and tissues?"

"Not just that. All the clutter, the garbage—"

"Baby, you've not seen clutter. You missed out on the pigsty Steve's place was after Connie went back to Miami. That was some real shit to be mortified by—"

"Ay Javi," you snicker ruefully and cut the faucet before drying your hands on the towel hung on the decorative rack, sighing to yourself before you concede, "The mess felt like a manifestation of how much of a mess I was today…"

Stowing the glass currently in his hand in the cabinet, Javi turns and herds you close by your hip before murmuring, "I know today was hard for you, preciosa. But you don't ever need to feel like you have to keep that bottled up. You can tell me what you need. I should've called before just showing up—"

"No, I just have always thought it would be better to just be alone today…but I didn't want to be alone," you stare up at him with gleaming eyes, worrying your bottom lip before confiding, "It felt safer."

He understands what you mean, but the pang that courses through him is still a sharp one. Hearing you say so and knowing how you've suffered alone out of a lonesome need to protect yourself from more pain has him yearning to be that safe space for you, and leaves him simmering with the need to prove that to you.

Just as he's about to assure that he'll do whatever you need to feel safe, no matter how silly or what not you might feel about it, your house phone starts to ring.

You pick up the phone where you left it on the counter and answer it. "Yes, thank you. Please let them up," you instruct before thanking the night attendant and going to return the phone to the charging base. "Pizza's here. Oh! Let me go put something on," you say hurriedly as you scamper down the hall to put on clothes in order to answer the door.

Of course, though, when you rush back in the matching stretch-knit mint-colored pajama bottom and blouse, Javier's already handing the delivery guy cash and taking the large pizza box, thanking him before quickly shutting the door to keep the cool air in and prevent you from trying to argue with him about it.

"Javi—"

"Hot stuff, comin' through," he retorts glibly as he maneuvers around your cross-armed stance to head to the kitchen. "And the pizza's sizzling, too."

You snicker at his quip and shake your head, relenting in even attempting to admonish him.

"Mmhmm, 'hot stuff' indeed, gracioso," you chuckle and jokingly pat his ass on the way around him to grab plates.

A couple of slices between you and a glass of wine each a short while later, and you're lounging on the sofa together, watching the home video from the start.

Javier loved seeing the younger versions of you – going from adorable baby to sassy elementary-aged little girl – and was intrigued to see the slivers of loving interactions between your parents. Your mother was stunning and sardonic, almost precocious, with a brilliant smile and bright eyes you'd inherited from her. And your father seemed like a completely different person than the hardscrabble, intimidating man with steel in his bones that you'd described previously. Instead, he seemed a wide-smiling, charismatic and wry romantic.

And when the video was rewinding in the VCR, you retrieved the big photo album that had once been your grandmother's and showed him how you'd added some of the new pictures you'd gotten from your father. There was a really nice photo of you as a toddler, holding hands with your father while walking up a hill, and the look in his chiseled features was of pure love for the little girl you were.

"—Oh! And look at these," you're excitedly exclaiming as you pick up a prettily adorned album and show him it contains the photos from your cousin's wedding. You place it on his lap before sitting next to him with your legs tucked under you as you chime, "God, that was such a fun night."

His full lips pull into a mischievous smile as he goes through the photos. "Back in the hotel room? Sure was," he quips, earning a playful swat on his bicep. When he flips to the page that has the photo of you, him and your grandmother, posing at the table together, he's overcome with fondness.

You sniffle, and he quickly clears his throat as he puts his arm around you and kisses the top of your hairline.

With a deep sigh, you sit up and grab for a newer album. It has a shiny cover of blue-on-blue leaf pattern print. As you open it, you amusedly murmur, "Figured we needed our own."

Javi peers down at the open album sitting on your lap, and the delighted pride that fills his chest radiates across his features at seeing the first picture you'd taken together – back in the hotel room in Cartagena. Next to it was the photo of Javi hugging the pillow in his sleep, and below both was the picture you took of him with the sunset warming his handsome visage. When you flipped to the next page, he was taken aback to see you'd clipped out the photo from the newspaper article that had you both standing only a couple people apart, and on the adjacent page was the picture from the Valentine's Day double date with Steve and Connie.

"I still have the doubles from the wedding I can add—" you're telling him when you glance up and find his brown eyes flicking to you with something smoldering that makes a flash of thrill tickle into your core, and before you can finish talking, Javier is kissing you passionately until the album slips from your lap onto the couch from him whisking you up to be cradled against him.

It's all he can do to express just how enamored and happy you make him.

The urge to profess so many things – to blurt out 'Marry me, querida,' – swirl in his heart and have Javier buzzing, but he knows it's not the right time. That you've just achieved a hard sought-after sense of calm, and things between you both were hopeful, albeit delicate.

No, he would wait. He had to, considering there was still so many things he needed to accomplish before being able to drop down onto a knee and ask you.

You're swooning by the time Javier carries you bridal style to bed, having barely had enough time to turn the TV off and place the album back onto the coffee table with the others before he swept you up against him.

Being snuggled against him, skin-to-skin after making love, had you serene – feeling like you wanted to stay still in the moment with him forever.

Waking up early the next morning in his arms was divine, but since he had the meeting at the Fortaleza first thing, you forced him out of bed and into the shower so you could iron his shirt and pants for him. By the time he came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist, you were already in the kitchen, setting the cafetera onto the stove. He couldn't help smile at how you've picked out a light gray suit, crisp dress shirt, and a necktie already, laying it out on the bed for him.

"Do you want something to eat?" you call out while you retrieve the coffee mugs.

"I'll have whatever you're having," Javi answers back as he quickly dresses. Once he's got everything on but his blazer and dress shoes, he pads down the hall while he fusses with his tie. "Don't go to too much trouble though—"

"I'm just going to heat up the viandas and boil some eggs then," you'd started to say as he started to remark, so you snicker and pause at the stove when he snorts and looks irreverently at you. "What? You said whatever I was having. This is a desayuno típico."

"All right, I'll try it," he assures as he keeps fiddling with his tie. You scoff humorously and swat his hands away so you can do it for him, smiling when he croons, "You trying to turn me into a jibarito?"

"Maybe," you joke and purse your lips teasingly at him as you smoothen his collar and straighten the red, silver and white-striped tie into place for him. "Are you going to the office after the meeting at La Fortaleza?"

"Yeah. The building we're setting up shop in for the DEA field office operations is almost ready, so Steve and me have to spend the afternoon deciding how to divvy up the teams between there and the Federal campus," he explains while you heat up the food and hard boil the eggs after taking the coffee kettle off the burner and setting it aside to cool.

He dutifully serves the coffee into the two mugs you set out while you work around the kitchen as you ask, "So then you'll be splitting your time up between the field office and the main building?"

"Probably not. I'm thinking on stationing Segarra at the field office and staying in the Federal building," he muses before taking a sip of his coffee. He leans his hip into the counter, watching you retrieve bowls from the cabinet before you serve the reheated plátano, ñame, guineo, and panapén into each.

"Oh, that's your ASAC, right?" you query as you retrieve the eggs with a cooking spoon and run cold water over them before removing each from their shell and placing one in each bowl with the viandas. At his dry grunt of acknowledgement, you multitask sprinkling a pinch of salt into each bowl before drizzling olive oil over the meal while inquiring, "So why don't you like the guy?"

Licking his lips of the coffee, he gives a one-shouldered shrug, griping, "He's just an upstart with no real experience. And he's tried to be a get-over, and cut corners—"

"That doesn't sound familiar," you razz as you grab a fork for each of you and wink playfully at him when he frowns with comical displeasure. "Come sit and eat, chulito," is your flirty order as you saunter by him with the food, musing lightly, "You can tell me all about it."

Javier does, explaining all the reasons why he doesn't like Segarra while you have breakfast together at the glass table, after marveling how tasty the campesino-inspired peasant dish really was.

By the time he has to head out for the early meeting, you're seeing him off at the door with an amorous kiss.

"Good luck, agente," you sweetly coo before brushing a rogue wisp of hair back from his forehead for him.

"I'll need it, jefa," he husks and pinches your hip affectionately before giving you a peck on the lips and heading out to the tropically sunny morning.

You feel lighter than you have in days. Like the world has gone still around you and is content to remain blissful, no matter what.

You're practically floating when you get to work later that morning.

All the missed messages and memos don't even make a dent into your serene mood, and even the latest HR nonsense regarding administrative box checking doesn't faze you. Frankly, by the time you're checking emails, you start day dreaming – letting a fantasy unspool in your mind about living a charmed life with Javier. Of being lovestruck peasants who frolic through a countryside meadow and lay in the cool grass together while watching the clouds go by.

Quit being so silly! You have to admonish yourself of the flights of fancy in order to concentrate on your work, but a girlish smile still ghosts your lips as you resume your task.

It's hours later when Javi is in his office, going over the stacks of evidence Lopez had shipped via courier from Santo Domingo. Sans his light gray blazer, he's able to more comfortably stretch out the weary muscles in his back before absently loosening the knot of his tie, eyes remaining glued to the document he's currently skimming over.

After the bureaucratical meeting at the Governor's mansion that morning, he was glad to be back to focusing on the case at hand. He didn't feel cut out for the political jockeying, and while he held his own with the officials and had a pleasant enough exchange with the governor, Javier didn't like going to those kinds of things without something substantial to show. At the very least, though, he had assurances of more cooperation with cabinet departments regarding the leads he wanted to chase down in the privately-owned sectors.

And the promise to put pressure on other leaders in the Caribbean region when it came to cooperating in a joint trans-national task force was one that he felt he could at least believe at face value, for once.

He was just thinking of calling Lopez to check in with him when three swift knocks rap on his closed door.

"Come in," he distractedly calls out as he skims a line at the bottom of a financial disclosure form, trying to make out the signature.

"Is this a good time, Agent Peña?"

Javi whips his attention up to blink surprisedly across at you, almost awestruck to see you peeking around the slightly ajar door. You're in a chic burgundy blouse and matching trouser that looks tailored to perfection on you, hair swept back from your face and up in a bouncy ponytail.

"Celi—I mean, Director Reinosa. Y-Yes, I was just looking over something. Come in," Javi stammers and corrects as he stands from his desk and gestures for you to enter his office.

When you step in, it's then he notices the takeout bag you're holding in one hand. He can see through the momentary vacant sightline out to where his admin's desk faces his door, and spots that the woman seemingly just returned and was shooting him a questioning look. So, Javi intercepted closing the door behind you, and gestured to her in a way that spoke clearly before shutting the door: Do not disturb.

"I figured you hadn't bothered with getting lunch, so I thought we could have a do-over?" you unconcernedly muse as you hold up the bag to show him the logo of the Japanese restaurant from a few weeks prior, leaning up on the tippy toes of your black heels and kissing him on his lips before flouncing towards the sitting area in the corner of his office to unpack the bag onto the glass coffee table in front of the leather couch and side chair.

The unruffled, carefree confidence you're exuding – how unabashedly unconcerned you are about being seen together at work, let alone that you've set up an impromptu lunch date in his office – has heat blooming in his chest, making his heart skip a beat.

As you're setting out the different containers of food, you lilt sardonically, "I took the liberty of ordering you something I thought you'd like more than sushi, and grabbed you more than chopsticks to use this time."

Rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, Javi comes over to join you, and ends up smiling when you kick off your heels and sit lotus style on the carpeted floor instead of the couch before grabbing his steak hibachi meal and handing it to him. He crouches down to sit next to you, and only after you've set everything out and popped the tabs on the soda cans, does he lean over and kiss your cheek.

You grin, giving him a knowing look, so he whispers conspiratorially, "Is this your subtle way of saying we need to disclose our relationship status to Mercer soon?"

"Only if you don't want to sneak around anymore," is your silly counter as you snap your chopsticks apart and prepare to pick up a piece of salmon sushi, as you add, "We can't really go crazy with PDA even after it's known—"

"So I can't just kiss you in the lobby, in front of everyone, you mean?" is his taunt, eyes crinkling mirthfully when you blow a raspberry imperiously at him and squeeze his knee.

"I've had my fill of HR bureaucracy already, fresco," is you snicker, earning a droll hum from him. "So? How was the meeting?"

Javi catalogues all the food in the container before answering, "It was alright. I spoke with the governor for a bit."

"Oh?" you ask before eating a piece of sushi.

"Yeah. He's really gun-ho about the Mano Dura initiative. Promised to make headway with other officials across the Caribbean. Which is good, since we kept hitting roadblocks in Santo Domingo," he remarks before digging into his meal, humming with gusto.

Chewing thoughtfully, you take a sip of your drink before pointing out, "You haven't really talked much about the investigation here. If you don't want to—"

He shakes his head before dabbing his mouth with a napkin to assure, "No, it's just different here. Plus, we've been busy, catching up with each other."

You smile, licking your lips self-consciously before conceding, "True."

"And anyway, I'm still trying to make heads and tails out of things here as it is. We don't have a typical cartel dynamic, like with Medellín and Cali. It's been challenging, figuring out the players, how they network," he elaborates before eating a forkful of fried rice.

You hum thoughtfully, before commenting, "You're right. I haven't really thought about it, but crime is discussed in opaque terms here. There's no reporting on Escobar-level figures or anything like that."

"Exactly. Which is strange. It's starting to make me suspect that it might be by design," Javier rumbles before blinking at your surprised look. "I only mean that things might be more insulated here. Escobar and the Cali Godfathers started on the outside and wormed their way into controlling things by threat and corruption. I'm wondering if it's a different setup here."

That makes you hum bemusedly as you sip your drink.

Deciding to change the subject, Javi leans in to whisper cockily in your ear, "Can we fool around in my office, this time around?"

Huffing sarcastically, you nudge him wryly with your shoulder and sassily scathe, "How long have you been wanting to ask that, beyako atrevido?"

He showily nuzzles your neck, feeling heat zing through his veins at your lovely perfume and warm skin, growling before he gravels, "Only since you sat here licking your lips, smelling fucking good, looking so goddamn sexy."

An exhilarated flutter of desire skitters into your core and makes your pussy throb.

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to make it up to you, sometime," is your silky murmur before looping your fingers around his tie and towing him closer so you can kiss him sultrily on the lips.

Fuck, Javi thinks to himself, beyond turned on now. But even he isn't shameless enough to take a nooner in his office, with a bustling department just beyond his closed door. The filthy allure of it has him so aroused, though, that you end up having to nip his bottom lip when he tries to deepen the kiss into a torrid make-out session.

"Mmph!"

"Down, boy."

"…That's easier said than done, bravita."

You giggle at his grumpy pout, and irreverently use your chopsticks to pick up a piece of hibachi steak in order to feed it to him. He snorts and eats it, winking at you when you hum a silly sound that communicates, 'Be good now?'

The rest of lunch is great, and you depart with a smooch to his smiling lips before exiting with the bag in your grip, leaving only the aromatic scent of the meal as the only evidence of your date in the spacious office.

With all the planning and arrangements for the field office setup, Javier would be busy the next few days, but had asked if you wanted to go to dinner at Steve and Connie's Sunday night when you'd talked on the phone later that night. You were excited for it, and even picked up a nice bottle of wine and whiskey to take over when you went food shopping after the work the following day.

You're merrily humming to yourself as you carry the grocery bags up from your car and enter the lobby of your condo, already thinking of how much you were looking forward to spending the time with Javier and the other couple, when the attendant called out to you.

"Señorita, there was a delivery for you. I didn't want to leave it at your door," the man explains as he retrieves a small bouquet of pink carnations from behind the counter.

You rush over, surprised, and thank the man, taking the cellophane-wrapped flowers that were tied with a baby pink bow with you.

A dreamy smile pulls at your lips as you ride up in the elevator. He must've sent them, just because – and so they'll eventually end up joining the collection preserved in the box. The thought makes you gleeful, so as soon as you're off the elevator, you hustle with everything to your apartment door, unlock it, breeze in, and place the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before walking over to the sofa to sit so you can delicately fish the card out from where it's tucked beyond the stems and sticking to the wrapper.

Plucking it out and free, you set the carnations down on the cushion next to you so you can open the card. It has a simple 'Thinking of you…' written in cursive on the cover.

When you skim the message, your giddiness deflates into perplexed uneasiness, instantly.

Being a shallow, uncaring hypocrite. You deserve to be exposed for it. Only a matter of time.

There was no signature. No other identifiable way to know who the author was, or what they were even referencing.

You were left befuddled first, unnerved second.

Staring down at the carnations, you vacillate with what to do.

You're unaware that the decision you eventually make will only lead to an unexpected confrontation that will tip things into a precarious sequence of events you're woefully unprepared for. Nor do you know how it will change everything in your life.

All you do know, is that you aren't interested in letting anything affect your happiness, so, you decided not to let it.

  ________________

Read Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Spanish-English Glossary:

Papisongo = Puerto Rican slang for a very sexy man; a stud

Malvadita = Wicked little girl

Mi amor = My love

Muecas = Making funny faces

Coquí = Puerto Rican singing tree frog; named for the sound he croaks

Plaza = Marketplace, or stronghold. In reference to the cartels, it means the general territory, or square of power

Caserío = Public housing; housing project

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Seductora = Seductress

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Mi rey = My king

Dios mío = My god

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Eres mi vida, preciosa = You're my life, precious girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Chistosa = Funny girl; wisecracker (female)

Parcha = Passionfruit

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Toño Leña = Nickname that roughly translates to 'Tony Firewood'

El Muñecón = Nickname that roughly translates to 'The Doll Boy"

Viandas = Root vegetables, like plantains (plátanos), yams (ñames), green bananas (guineos) and breadfruit (panapén)

Estamos en el campo = We're out in the country

Jibarita = A little peasant girl

Campesina = Country girl; farm girl

Ron = Rum

En el monte = [Up] In the hill

Finca = Rural property

Mofongo con camarones a la criolla = Fried, mashed plantains with creole stewed shrimp

Arróz mamposteao y bistec encebollado = Stewed rice and beans and steak soaked in onions

Gandules = Pigeon peas

Arróz con gandules = Rice with pigeon peas

Carne guisada = Beef stew

Aguacate = Avocado

Brazo gitano = A Spanish cake roll based from a Swiss-roll-like pastry dessert that resembles a "Gypsy's arm", popular on the West side of Puerto Rico

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

¿Que haces con eso? = What're you doing with that?

Bellísima = Beautiful woman; 'Most beautiful woman'

Ay Diego = Oh Diego

Vamos, bellísima = C'mon, most beautiful woman

La fiera = The savage girl; wild beast

Salió a ti, chistoso = She takes after you, funny guy

Es pura hija tuya = She's purely your daughter

Con huevonadas = With stupid nonsense

Ah pues bien = Oh, well fine then

Mi bellísima = My most beautiful woman

Hola, nena = Hey, girl

Llámame = Call me

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Mandón = Bossy man

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Guapísimo = Super hot and handsome

El señorito Javi sabe chingar = Little mister Javi knows how to fuck

Papi chulo = Ladies man

Detalles ahora, doña =Details now, missus

Amante = Lover

Que eres el amante más asombroso de mi vida = That you're the most amazing lover of my life

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Paisa = Colombian compatriot; term of endearment amongst Colombians, especially in Medellín

Consola de aire acondicionado = Air conditioning unit/console

Un momento = One moment

Zafacón = Trashcan

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Desnúdate, ahora = Get naked, now

Velorio = Wake; veiling ceremony where people sit vigil

Verduras =Vegetables; usually root vegetables

Gracioso = Funny guy

desayuno típico = Traditional, or typical breakfast

Jibarito = Little peasant boy

La Fortaleza = The Puerto Rican Governor's office and mansion; aka 'The Puerto Rican White House'

Jefa = Boss lady

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy Señorita = Miss; little lady

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 42: Reflection

I have arisen~! Sorry ONCE AGAIN for the long lag in updates. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the delay in posting 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 24,500+

Summary: All the previous reconciliations and past heartache act as a reflection in your peripheral once you and Javi gravitate back to each other, but is the love and passion between you enough to keep you both together, this time?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+ f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, angst, past trauma, resentments, frustration and regret. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, women's health, fluff, hurt comfort, size kink, praise kink, dom/sub play. SoftDom!Javi, Romatic!Javi, and Bossy!OFC. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 41: Enchantment

Chapter 42: Reflection

To say that you and Javier made up for lost time apart would be an understatement.

From the moment he'd pulled you close and claimed your mouth with his, any coyness between you both had dissolved, and all caution had been discarded for the passionate ways you each needed to revel in the other.

Javier had whisked you against him and the wall when you buried your hands in his hair and tugged him down to deepen the kiss before you trailed needy nips across his jaw and down his neck. He'd ground into you and groped up your dress to hike your leg around his hip, and before you could gather your lust-clumsy wits, he'd had you half naked in the hallway while you yanked his unbuttoned shirt off and groaned for him to touch you.

"Love you—want to make you mine," he'd whispered at your ear after you'd tugged his undershirt off over his head and he'd cupped his hand between your thighs to touch you over your soaked panties. "Promise to make you feel so good, mi amor—"

"Javi," you'd moaned as you arched against him, bare breasts pressing against his chest while he hastily tried to maneuver you both down the hall towards the bedroom whilst suckling on your pulse point and wrenching your tangled dress from around your waist to be discarded.

The garment barely finished hitting the tiled floor before you'd already unbuckled his belt and impatiently tugged his pants undone while you both multitasked kicking your shoes off and kissing wantonly as you finally made it over the threshold of the doorway. Javier had let you undress him – to get him completely nude before you'd towed him towards the bed as he peeled your panties down before you kicked them off. His voracious touch and kisses had you tingling – pulse racing with the exhilarating excitement of feeling him hunger for you as much as you're starving to be his again.

The sex had been primal and sensual. Intense yet tender. Voracious, ardent, and divine – albeit salacious. And, it'd occurred libidinously throughout the night, in between dozing off from spent exhaustion during the post-coital periods.

Every time you roused from slumber to him kissing on you, or tenderly caressing his touch between your thighs, or nuzzling your neck while he husked adoring words to you in the dark, you'd pull him close and end up making love all over again, no matter how tired and sore your muscles were, or how full and tender you felt. At one point, just before dawn, you'd even awoken to the soft quilt being tucked around you – with Javier completely underneath it.

His head had been between your thighs as he languidly licked your tender pussy, eating you out with shameless – albeit gentle vigor, and groaning with achievement as you gasped fully awake and ground against his mouth with needy enthusiasm.

One more romp later, and you were both passed out in the disheveled sheets, tangled up in each other with the quilt rumpled around you as the stormy climate persisted outside.

The rainy weather made it easy to lose track of time, and when Javi woke up at one point to peer over to the curtained windows, he couldn't gauge the hour of the day. It was dark and dreary, the room mostly in penumbra save for the gray daylight that filtered in from the billowing curtains every so often that a gust of breeze sifted through the ajar slats.

Content to cuddle back under the quilt with you, Javi shifted to blearily squint over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the nightstand closest to the bedroom's door and ended up balking at the time displayed.

Begrudgingly, but carefully maneuvering his limbs from around yours and shuffling backwards from where he'd been spooning you, Javi got out of bed and quietly went over to the pile of his clothes strewn about the entry of the bedroom. As he does so, you roll into the side of the bed he's vacated in your slumber. Making sure to remain silent while you sigh in your sleep as you cuddle the pillow his head had been resting on most of the night, he's relieved to not have woken you, and resumes grabbing for his pants before suddenly remembering he'd left his cell phone in the center console of his car.

Internally swearing to himself, Javier discards the chinos and sneaks out to make a pitstop in the bathroom across from the bedroom door in the hall, before quietly going down to the living room to find your house phone. He's in the buff, scratching at his tousled hair, cataloguing your apartment now in the morning light as he lopes over to pick up the receiver from the console table against the wall of the entry, and quickly dials Steve to let him know he definitely isn't making it to the gym.

"—Fuck, man. I just got ready and put my sneakers on to go get you," his friend grumbles around a yawn, testily adding, "You're the one who hassled me into working out—"

"First off, you're a father of two now and you're in shit shape," Javi mutters sarcastically as he paces from the living room over to the kitchen to open the fridge, unabashed as he retrieves the carton of orange juice and sets it down on the counter, enjoying the cool air from the fridge as he stands completely in the nude while he looks over at the direction of the balcony slider doors and notices the overcast sky peeking through the vertical blinds. "Second, I got ahold of you before you were inconvenienced in going out in this weather—"

"So, the date went well, then?" Steve fishes, raspy drawl goading.

"Yeah, it did," Javi answers in a hushed tone as he shuts the fridge door and opens the carton of juice before taking a long pull from it, letting out a sated exhale to then mumble, "Anyway, raincheck on the gym. I'll talk to you later—"

"Just make sure you get her approval on double date night for Valentine's, bud," is the deriding taunt his buddy zings his way before saying goodbye.

Scoffing, Javi chugs orange juice until he's had his fill, returns the carton to the fridge, and fills a glass of water up before he takes it and the phone receiver with him back to the room. He passes the guest bedroom and notices for the first time a dim flicker emanating beyond the ajar door. Peeking in, he sees it's a neatly appointed room with a daybed, and a wide dresser up against the wall. On said dresser is a little altar flanked by tall white continental candles. There's one next to a photo of your grandmother, and it makes a twinge of recall warm his heart.

Returning to your bedroom now, Javi takes the opportunity to catalogue the space before fondly gazing at your sleeping form.

You've rolled back into the opposite side of the mattress, so he sets the glass on a coaster already tucked onto the nightstand next to his watch, puts the phone by the lamp, and slides back under the covers with you.

You unfurl once he's spooned up behind you again, sleepily rolling over to cuddle against him. The soft scent of your hair, the loving way you nuzzle his neck, and the gentle sigh you let out once you've curled up against him makes it easy for Javi to relax and doze back off.

A couple of hours later, it's your turn to slowly stir, stretching out groggily before begrudgingly waking when your body aches and commands that you take care of a biological need. You sit up carefully and peer over at Javier, seeing he's passed out on his stomach on the side of the bed you typically sleep in. His bare back is smooth and expands broadly as he breathes deep, relaxed breaths that soften his purring snore. You frown when you see the scratches your nails left on his back, but upon closer inspection, you're relieved to see they weren't welts or cuts by brushing your fingertips gently over them and finding they were smooth and likely to fade over the course of the day.

Your touch stirs a soft, bassy hum out of your sleeping hunk before he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

Smiling at having not stirred him awake, you gingerly sneak out of bed and walk around to the door, tiptoeing over your combined discarded clothes, and quickly go into the bathroom, clicking the door quietly shut behind you.

Well, so much for taking it slow, you think to yourself as you sit, but can't muster the reproachful feelings the admonishment should conjure. Instead, you take your time to replay moments from last night as you delicately stand and flush to go wash your hands. As you do so, you end up staring at your kiss-bruised, glowing features in the mirror over the sink vanity and smile before forcing yourself to wash your face and brush your teeth. You eye the mark he left from grazing his teeth on your sloping muscle, and feel a tremor of delight quiver in your sore nether regions.

The entire time you're in the bathroom, you relive the amazing feelings Javier had stirred up in you, and can't deny how effervescent and gleeful recalling everything makes you feel now, even with your wits regained.

From the moment he'd pulled you close and kissed you, any tentativeness between you both had dissolved, and all caution had been discarded for the passionate ways you each needed to bask in carnal adoration once again.

Unlike the last time you'd both gotten tempestuously ensnared and ended up rapaciously in his bed, you don't feel any trepidation or exasperation with yourself. If anything, you're trying to remind yourself why you'd been so keen on taking things slow. And when you remember how you'd told him how much you missed and loved him last night? The feeling that warms you when your mind's eye recalls the expression on Javier's face – how bright his dark eyes got, and how his features softened – it makes you yearn all over again.

You want to cherish what you have, and not overanalyze it or default to compartmentalizing it for fear of repeating mistakes or succumbing to resurging heartache.

When you sneak back into the room, you find Javier has rolled onto his back in his sleep.

He has a hand shoved behind a pillow, one leg flung over the quilt, and his other hand flopped over the bunched-up blanket at his belly. The breeze ruffles through the curtains and fills the room up with cool air while providing the cover for you to quickly pick up all the clothes strewn on the floor and place them aside on the cushioned wicker chair in the corner of your bedroom before you tiptoe soundlessly to the side of the bed next to the windows and stealthily slip back under the covers with him.

Sidling up carefully next to his sleeping form, you gaze down at him lovingly while he snores lightly, cheeks covered with stubble and hair a tousled mess of dark chocolate curls. His chest rises and falls with his gentle breathing, and his expression is the most relaxed you've ever seen him. Admiringly, you let your gaze wander the expanse of tan bare skin and toned muscles on his torso, committing every beauty mark, dark vello and chiseled contour to memory.

You notice the time on the clock when you glance up from his taut abdomen and frown, wondering if you're being too indulgent by keeping him all to yourself, when he stretches out and exhales. His hand shifts from his stomach up so he can drape his forearm across his eyes with a rumbled grunt before kicking the rest of the quilt off of him.

Cheekily biting your lip at getting a gander at his completely nude form in the dim mid-morning light, you decide to see how much teasing you can do before he's stirred awake.

First, you ever-so-lightly caress your fingertips along the inside of his thigh. Aside from the tendons flexing at the contact, he doesn't wake, so, you skim your touch over his hip and down his happy trail before fanning your fingers out to delicately brush his resting manhood. Javier hums in his sleep, but doesn't rouse, so you next lean over and kiss a beauty mark that's on the side of his ribcage before grazing a soft path with your lips up to his pectoral. The hand behind the pillow shifts out to dangle his arm over the edge of the bed while he yawns and arches his spine.

It's when he drags his forearm up to flop above his head that his eyes flutter open before he stiffens at the sensation of ticklish pleasure that makes him squirm, just as he wakes up and sees you're tracing the tip of your tongue along his nipple.

"Hmph, cristo amado, what'd I do to get such a naughty wake-up call?" he chortles gruffly – voice thick from disuse, before yawning noisily and smiling at you snickering girlishly at him.

"You lying here like a Playgirl centerfold, that's what," you tease before lounging sidelong against him so you can affectionately comb your fingers through his wild, wavy curls after he snakes his arm under you and tugs you to cuddle close. "Took advantage and leered at you, hermoso."

Javier grins dreamily before turning to nudge his cheek against yours, humming for you to kiss him. You do so, chastely, then huff an endearing sound before letting him deepen the kiss with the greedy sweep of his tongue into your mouth, and in an instant, he's rolling to flatten you into the disheveled bed while he tries to maneuver back under the blanket in order to be pressed skin-to-skin with you.

"Hngth, Javi," you mumble in between kisses, which makes him regain his wits and prop himself up on his hands to give you his complete attention. "As much as I love lazing in bed all day, I don't want to keep you from any plans you might've had already—"

Scoffing agreeably, he maneuvers to lounge sidelong next to you, as he drawls, "I woke up this morning and got a raincheck, so no worries, querida." You look surprised, so he snorts and nods over to the nightstand as he remarks, "I brought the phone in after calling Steve. Left my cellphone in the car."

You notice that indeed the wireless phone is set next to the lamp, and smile when you see he brought you a glass of water too. Craning your neck out to look over his shoulder allows Javier to notice the nippy scrapes he left near the base of your neck.

He reaches up to caress his touch conciliatorily and grunts reproachfully at himself before muttering, "Got carried away last night."

"Mmm, it's ok," you sigh as you notice the faint pinkish hickey you left on that delectable spot just under his jaw and pet your fingertips gently over it. "We both tend to do that. You should see your back," you chime and smile when he sits up further on the bed and angles his back towards the mirror over your dresser so he can peek over his shoulder and see for himself.

"Shit, I don't even feel 'em," he chuckles, appraising the hickey with a tilt of his head before snorting – as if almost pleased – before flopping back down to lounge next to you.

"Good. I never mean to use you as a scratching post, I swear," you goofily mumble, and smirk when he gives you a scruffy, moustache-heavy kiss into the valley of your breasts, making you crack up with laughter. At your raspy timbre, he shifts sidelong onto his hip in order to retrieve the glass of water and hand it to you. You sit up to recline your back into the headboard before guzzling the water down. "Mmm, thanks," you sigh once you've quenched your thirst and handed the empty glass for him to set it back onto the coaster for you.

"So? What about you?" he asks once he's flopped onto his side and rested his cheek in his hand to ogle you ruggedly. "Am I keeping you from anything?"

You gather your wild hair and comb it to one side over your shoulder as you smile and chime, "Nope. Because of the rainstorms, Anita and I are skipping our Saturday routine this weekend. I'm all yours today, galán," is your silky purr as you playfully wink at him.

Pleased, Javi pulls you by your waist down into the pillows and grunts before crooning smugly, "Perfect. I wasn't gonna let you out of this bed for a few more hours anyway."

He's true to his word.

After fooling around for a while, in which Javi sweetly kissed down your body and promised to be gentle – using only his tongue caressing over your clit to make you orgasm, you then domineeringly got him on his back so you could go down on him with gusto before you both ended up tuckered out against each other in a languid tangle of limbs.

"I could get used to staying in bed like this," Javier murmurs puckishly before turning his head to plant a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm sure," you chuckle as you roll to sit up on your elbow and affectionately smile down at him while you caress your hand along his chest. You relish how his eyes flutter closed and he hums at your touch skimming from his chest up to his cheek before you fan your fingers to comb through the hair at the side of his head, zeroing in on that spot behind his ear that turns him into putty.

"Hmm, that feels nice," he purrs in a sigh and relaxes.

Lovingly, you lean down and kiss the beauty marks dusting his corded neck before settling your lips to suckle lightly over his pulse point. Javi tips his head back and groans in approval before gasping when you suddenly nip the spot.

"Alright, we both smell sinful," you chirp mischievously before sitting up and impishly tickling down his toned sides, as you goofily singsong, "A bañarnos, mi cariñito."

Squirming under your attempt to tickle him, Javi quickly cuffs your wrists in his big hands and playfully wrestles you onto him before rolling to pin you onto the bed, grinning as you squeal and giggle effervescently while trying to fend him off sassily.

"I like how we smell, atrevida," he grouses as he relentlessly suckles kisses into your neck and shoulder while you cackle and snake your arms free to loop around his neck.

"That's because you're a filthy beyako!" you guffaw while he roughhouses to try and pin you down again, but you manage to cling to him instead and nuzzle his neck with a silly sound.

He laughs and lays on his side, giving up as you bossily clamber onto his lap and pin his arms down above his head in victory. "I give up!" Javi exclaims in a ridiculous grouchy voice, and you smile triumphantly before leaning down and showering his grinning features with doting kisses. "But seriously. I don't have stuff to change into, so I'll have to go down to my car and grab my gym bag—"

"Oooh, you'll have to do the walk of shame in your rumpled clothes," you snicker and bounce your brows derisively at him.

Chuckling, Javi sits up and kisses you on the lips before patting your thigh for you to climb off his lap so he can bound off the bed and grab for his clothes tossed on the wicker chair. Once he's finished buttoning his shirt, he comes over and pecks you on the lips before you tell him to grab your keys on the way out.

By the time Javi comes back through the front door with his gym bag, you're already in the kitchen setting out the ingredients for breakfast. His stare doesn't make it to the counter to see the carton of eggs you've already emptied by cracking what was left of the dozen into a mixing bowl, not when you're wearing his cotton undershirt and nothing else.

"Jesus Christ, are you trying to drive me crazy?" Javi growls as he drops the duffle by the bar top kitchen counter and comes up behind you to crowd you against him.

You giggle effervescently as you try to fend off his gropy touch and raunchy kisses. "Quit it!" is your silly huff as you turn in his arms and nudge him back a few paces whilst exclaiming, "I was going to draw a bath first, but then I figured you'd be hungry, so I grabbed the closest thing and put it on."

He groans and tows you closer with his hands cupping your hips. "I'm fucking starving, but now I just want to do filthy things to you all over again," he grumbles in a low octave as he nuzzles your mussed hair at your temple.

"Babe, I'm sore," you whine begrudgingly, tone clearly communicating how badly you wish you weren't. Javi leans back to give you a sincere frown, brows already knitting together in upset, so you mollify, "No me mires así, mi amor. A nice hot shower will loosen things up—"

"Hmph," Javi grunts and sweetly holds you to him before pressing a kiss to your forehead, purring, "Mi tiernita."

You melt in his arms and just relish how serene you feel, being with him like this.

It's easy to end up abandoning the kitchen to instead indulge in a nice, hot shower together. Especially when Javi rubs your back while you lean into him.

He enjoys being in the roomy shower stall with you, and is more than happy to let you scrub him down with your fragrant soap and shampoo his hair with an irreverent giggle. But seeing the way you stare up at him under dewy lashes, features warm and wet as you smile at him after affectionately sweeping his drenched hair back from his forehead, has him lovestruck. Like he's found the center of the universe, and it's in your adoring face.

Needless to say, all he wants to do is dote on you, so after you both exit the shower, Javier declares that he wants you to relax for the rest of the day, so he has you sit in the wicker chair while he strips the bed of the filthy linens before dressing it with fresh sheets and a lightweight ivory coverlet. While he does so, you both banter about the things you can do – other than each other – while cooped up in your apartment during the stormy weekend.

"—I have some movies from Blockbuster we can watch," you're telling him now as you finish towel drying your hair while he empties out his gym bag and sorts out the dirty from the clean clothes, setting the latter aside onto your dresser.

"That works," he muses coolly as he tugs his underwear on before removing the towel from his waist, grabbing a pair of gray drawstring sweatpants and yanking them on.

"Oh, hand me the phone?" you chime after he's pulled a plain white t-shirt on and has tossed his now empty duffle aside.

Javi sits on the bed after he's handed you the wireless receiver and admires how cozy you look in your terrycloth robe with your damp hair swept over a shoulder. So much so, that he doesn't have a chance to ask who you're calling before you've quickly dialed the number and greeted congenially, "Hola, Zory," and go on to have a quick catchup with your friend before asking her for a hookup on a foursome reservation at the nicest restaurant you can think of in El Condado. "—Oh, yeah, I know I'll owe you big," you're chortling now as you crinkle your eyes cutely at Javi when you answer your friend with, "Ah-hah, te presento mi jevo pronto, ok?"

Javi mouths, 'Jevo?' and arches his brow when you squint mischievously at him before standing and going to your closet to find a comfortable housedress to put on.

"—Thanks, girl! Hang out soon," you tell Zoraida before finishing the call and emerging from the closet with a beachy-patterned yellow dress.

"Well?" Javi presses debonairly as he reclines against the headboard and watches you shed your robe to shimmy into the billowy dress. "What's a jevo?"

Giving him a Cheshire cat grin, you coquettishly hang up your robe on the closet door hook while you drawl, "Oh, around these parts? That's slang for boyfriend," then innocently saunter out of your room with the house phone in hand.

You hear the mattress protest with how quickly Javier jumps up to rush after you, and are giggling while you try to make it to the kitchen before he can sweep you up and take you back to bed.

He most definitely wants to indulge in driving you wild after that, but compromises with himself and instead bosses you out of the kitchen so he can cook instead. You set the phone back into its base, then park at a barstool and watch him from the other side of the counter while he unpackages the bacon and starts placing them on the hot skillet he's let heat up.

Amusedly, you pick up the copy of El Nuevo Día you'd left on the corner of the counter and hold it up for him to see as you lilt, "Look, the difference a couple of weeks makes."

Leaning over to see the group photo taken in the banquet hall, Javi smirks and starts prepping the coffee kettle. With an irreverent hum, he quips, "Yep, if that me only knew how hard you'd slap him—"

"You're never going to let me live that down, huh," you sarcastically complain, lopsided smile brazen when he shrugs aloofly and places the cafetera on the stove burner. "C'mon, what do I have to do to completely make up for that?" is your whimsical query.

Javier's brain has to stop him from blurting, 'Marry me.'

Shaking his head clear, he keeps whisking the eggs while the scoop of butter he slicked into the pan sizzles up. Once he's poured the eggs into it, he counters glibly over his shoulder, "Put on that sexy nighty later?"

You rest your elbows on the counter and cup your face when he looks over at you with those damnable brown puppy eyes. So, you exhale a flirtatious breath before humming, "Done deal, chulito."

He's more than pleased when you slink off of the barstool to round the counter and tow him away from the stove so you can get on your tippy toes and press a passionate kiss to his full, smiling lips.

Cheekily, he pinches your waist before herding you out towards the fridge so he can reclaim his place at the stove. "Do me a favor, and pull out the orange juice for me?" he drawls in that raspy timbre that makes excitement flutter warmly in your belly.

Snickering imperiously, you do as you're asked, but when you pull out the carton, your brows furrow curiously at how light the contents seem. When you uncap it and go to retrieve a glass for him, Javier surprises you by pilfering the carton from you and pressing it to his lips, chugging the juice down in several long gulps.

Scoffing at his audacity, you swat his bicep after he lets out a gloating sigh and hands you the empty carton, charging wryly, "You hog! What a glutton—"

"I'll buy more when we go food shopping," he tuts unabashedly as he lets the cooked bacon settle onto the paper towel-lined plate before shutting the burner off and moving the egg pan aside.

You use the diversion to maneuver him to tend to the kettle while you make short work of pulling two coffee mugs from the cupboard as you mutter sassily, "You're lucky you're sexy. That's all I'm gonna say!"

Once the food is ready, you both curl up on the couch together and have breakfast for lunch. And after you're both full, you lounge length-wise on the comfortable cushions and watch one of the movies you rented. Truthfully, though, you end up canoodling more than actually paying attention to the plot.

When the credits roll, you eject the VHS and replace it into the case before handing Javier the remote while you take the dishes to the sink. He puts it on a random channel before getting up to herd you away from the sink so he can clean up. Not to be thwarted, you scamper down the hall to your bedroom and return lugging your hamper now filled with his gym bag clothes and your laundry. He's just finished setting the last pan aside to dry when he hears you fiddling with the washing machine dials in the laundry room behind the kitchen.

"You are incorrigible!" he acerbically grumbles when he comes into the tidy laundry room before he swings you up into his arms bridal style and marches back to the sofa.

"Babe, it's just laundry," you simper while he carries you. "C'mon, you need me to wash your stinky clothes—"

You end up squeaking comically when he tosses you down onto the comfortable couch before he drops onto the cushions and crawls over you. "I need you to be a good girl and relax like I told you to," is his husk as he presses his broad frame in around you before nudging your cheek with his in a show of bossy dominance.

It's ridiculous how much that turns you on and makes you pliant underneath him.

The rest of the time you're both cuddled on the couch, you're nothing but affectionate, albeit obediently coquettish with him. You can't remember the last time you've relaxed like this, being idle couch potatoes without a care in the world.

You're nestled between the sofa cushions and Javi while you watch the sitcom reruns, content and tickled by his current line of questioning.

"—What's this show even about?"

"Oh, it's not really about anything. Just funny anecdotal hijinks each of the four friends get into."

"So, it's about nothing in particular?"

"Yeah. They're all neurotic people who get caught up in silly scenarios, usually by their own rude ignorance, sense of self-importance, or some ironic karmic result. The guy with the crazy hair is the weird neighbor who's always doing some grifty thing that never pans out for him—"

"People watch this?"

"It's the biggest comedy of the last couple of years, evidently."

Javier shakes his head at that and keeps combing his deft fingers through your hair while he stares at the screen. "Cable is overrated," is his laconic mutter, to which you snicker and squeeze your arms around him amusedly.

"I have two other movies we can pick from instead," you suggest, but are too cozy snuggled against him and the back cushions to want to move.

He puts up with sitcom reruns until evening, where he finally lets you wear him down; laundry gets done, and you whip up a healthy dinner of chicken florentine with spaghetti squash that has him astounded by how tasty it is. You both eat at your glass table with the vertical blinds open so you can both watch the mellow rain drizzle down while the breeze gets the foliage of the trees and tropical plants swaying whilst you talk about your upcoming plans for the work week.

After dinner dishes are left to soak in the sink, you both curl back up on the couch to watch the beastly thriller in the dark. Javier's arm is around your shoulders while you snuggle into his side, resting your head against his. You both occasionally jolt against each other whenever a jump scare occurs, but most of the time, Javier is peeking down his nose at you to see you're stoically watching the movie. He tries to gauge whether you're really into the preposterous plot, and keeps his jeers quiet – until the credits roll and you sit up to give him your best poker face.

You know he's been bursting at the seams, so you shake your head as you go eject the movie from the VCR and place it into its case.

As expected, he heckles derisively about how bad it was the entire time you're flouncing around the apartment to get ready for bed.

"—I can't believe you rented that!"

"What?! It looked scary! I didn't know it was going to be so goofy—"

"Jack Nicholson as a wolfman didn't sound goofy to you—?!"

"Oh my god, I didn't know it was going to be so silly, chavón—"

"I had to do everything not to laugh during that ridiculous fight scene—"

"Ay, ok, Mr. Movie Critic! Just quit hassling me and come to bed."

Shaking your head at hearing him scoff sarcastically while you change into the sultry nighty Javier loves, you suppress a smirk when he comes in and pauses to stare at your form. You're sauntering to the side of the bed you favor before pulling the covers back while he chuckles to himself as he sheds his shirt and sweatpants after turning out the light in the hall. He struts in the buff over to where you've just climbed under the blanket, and impishly maneuvers you to slide farther across the width of the mattress onto the opposite side of the bed, nearest the windows, before getting under the covers and turning off the bedside lamp.

You snicker, "Tan controlador."

He loops his arm around your waist and tows you to be snug against him, husking in a canela-rough purr, "Go to sleep, provocadora."

After not getting much sleep the night before, it's easy for the two of you to stretch out and doze off together, especially when the sound of the rain and the chill of the breeze lulls you both into peaceful slumber.

You end up dreaming of being in the mountains, driving down the precarious, winding road that overlooks the lush valley below and the promontories in the distance. The sky is sparkling blue and twinkling across the windshield of the Cadillac you're driving. You're alone in the car as you drive down and pull off to park at a roadside overlook. Instead of the tropical din of animals, the air is filled with a distant melody you're trying to place, when you sense someone approach where you're looking out at the view.

Just as you turn, Javier looks over at you and smiles. The melody starts to get clearer as he pulls you into his arms, and you're finally able to make out the words to the song.

¡Que viva el amor y duren los encantos! Que el mundo se entere que nos amamos tanto El amor es perfecto cuando se ama Amor transparente más claro que el agua

The song's chorus keeps echoing in the air around you while Javi holds you close, and just as you rest your cheek against his chest and look back out at the picturesque valley scenery beyond, you wake up to the blaring of your alarm clock.

Javier groans and blindly rolls over to try and shut it off, but he's not used to the clock's switches, so he fumbles and swears under his breath as he tries to focus his bleary, squinting eyes to find the off button.

Reaching over him, you easily deactivate the alarm and slink against his back to flop into the mattress and roll over with a grumbled, "Sorry. Forgot it was preset for my Sunday morning jog."

"Jeez," he gravels out as he turns onto his back and scrubs at his eyes. "Who're you trying to get in such sexy shape for anyway?" is his snarky grouse as he sits up on his elbow and peers goofily over at you, cocking a brow at you when you scoff and roll over to sneer at him.

"Mira quien habla," you lob around a yawn before sitting up to glare sassily at him when he rolls his eyes and shifts up to recline his back against the headboard. Leering at his broad chest and his defined abdomen as you drape the blanket up to your collarbone, you sulk, "You've clearly been working out for a while long before you got down here—"

He blows a raspberry at that as he scratches his messy hair. "Yeah, well, it wasn't to impress anyone else, unlike you—" he pauses when you hit him across the chest with your pillow.

"Since when have I done anything to impress anyone else?" you challenge as you bop him on the head with the pillow now, smirking when he wrestles it away and shoves it to be pinned between his back and the headboard.

"Baby, give me a fuckin' break. You had men wanting to fall to their knees and worship your hot ass before. And now? They're probably willing to sell their souls to get a chance at touching you," is Javi's gruff compliment, all while his features take on a chiseled, intense etch to them when you look at him dubiously. He can't help a hint of insecure jealousy bleed into his muttered tone as he points out, "You never worked out before—"

With a huffy exhale, you snipe, "That's because my life didn't fall apart in a day and I didn't subsequently spend months being a depressed shiftless layabout who overindulged in all the decadent Caribbean food my heart could ever desire – all the other times we broke up." At his expression dropping into a frown, you dial back your angsty energy and coolly add, "And you remember how big the embassy was. My workout was hoofing it up and down that building all the time. I did a lot more walking back in Colombia, and in general, got plenty of cardio," you bounce your brows suggestively at him, earning a snicker and silly smirk from him at the obvious compliment. "So, around Christmas, when I couldn't get into my favorite jeans? I decided to diet and be more active. It also helped that all my girlfriends down here are nutrition-savvy, workout fiends, so I had the motivation to stick to it. Now it's part of my routine, and I enjoy it well enough," is your elaboration before you shrug your bare shoulders.

Javier seems to absorb your explanation and feel at ease, which encourages you to stick to the half-truths and continue omitting your health-related motives for being more fit.

Deciding to deflect the attention back to him, you hum an easygoing sound and playfully nudge his shoulder, squeezing his deltoid appealingly as you drawl, "Well? Don't hold out on me now. You were a damned sexy stud before, but clearly you wanted to sculpt your bod up for someone—"

He huffily slaps his hands down over his blanket-covered thighs and grouses, "Not true. When I'd first gotten back home, I went out to help my dad mend a fuckin' fence, and within no time – from just lifting the posts and digging the holes, I was so damned winded – sweating my ass off, and dizzy from the labor, that I knew it was because I was in shit shape," he pauses when he looks over and catches your worried pout, so he confesses, "When I chased Jurado, I could barely keep up. My lungs ached and my knees wobbled. I didn't catch my breath for over an hour…"

You tuck your legs under you and lean close to him. "And you feel better now?" you ask, eyes scanning his features for any sign of doubt.

"Much better, yeah. I can run a mile without getting winded. That's probably more from quitting smoking than anything, but helping around the ranch, getting hassled by my buddy to hit the gym with him – it all helped get me into shape. It also helped me redirect the pent-up energy, and kept me from going fucking crazy there," he explains, and when you relax, he snakes his arm around your waist and tugs you close. Giving you a roguish look, he gravels lowly, "You're the only one I want checking out my 'damned sexy sculpted' body anyway, chingona. I'll keep fit just for you, so don't bother being tan celosa—"

You brazenly swat his shoulder, sitting up to bossily start crawling over him to the side of the bed he's occupying while you imperiously jibe, "Oh god, forget I even said anything, jodón! Serves me right—"

Thwarting you, Javier effortlessly hauls you back and over his lap to sit facing the dresser, where you can see your reflection in the mirror. It should be embarrassing how quickly your nipples stud underneath the silky nighty at the sight of him watching you over your shoulder as he fondles his hands down your hourglass shape to squeeze your hips in a show of dominance before he kicks the coverlet away from his legs and grinds his ramrod erection against you.

"What were you gonna say, bravita?" he gruffly husks against the back of your ear as he settles you to straddle just right, causing you to gasp and clutch at his thighs.

You bite your lip and rub against him, wearing nothing under the nighty and already wet with desire as you get off on the salaciousness reflected in the mirror. "S-Serves me right for being sincere w-with a raunchy fresco," you stammer breathily as Javi paws his hands under the silky fabric to line you up with the thick spear of his cock just as he thrusts home into your molten cunt now.

The way heat rushes up your body and radiates at your cheeks as you end up watching Javi fuck you makes you dizzy and needy, shameless even. You bend forward to manage the momentum to rock back against his pounding thrusts, whimpering when Javi growls, "Never get enough. You love just driving me crazy, don't you."

"Ahh!" is your silky cry as you buck back onto him and arch your back when he sets a quick, rough pace after he catches you smirking titillatingly in the mirror. His hands bunch your nighty up to the center of your back so he can stare at your ass while his cock disappears into your silken cunt. It has him ravenous, seeing how you're loving the way he's dominating you – by how eager your mewls are when he kneads the globe of your ass before teasingly brushing the pad of his thumb in slow circles over your tight ring of muscle.

You keen airily when his talented digit presses into the puckering hole, teasing it while he guides your undulating hips to keep riding his cock. When he finally eases his thumb in, you whine a needy sound as your cunt contracts excitedly. He rewards you with a pleased groan before snapping his hips up to fuck deep into the angle that steals your breath away and has you grasping at your own thighs to not bowl forward into the bed.

"Take those gorgeous tits out. Wanna watch you touch them while I fill you up," he orders in a raspy purr before loosening his grip on the back of your nighty so he can drag his palm down your back before spanking your ass.

You clench around his cock and his thumb as you whimper a thrilling sound. A deviant thrill flares in his gut at your reaction, and he's rapacious from the high of dominating you like this. Dark eyes intense and pleased as he watches your hands clumsily yank the nighty down your arms to expose your breasts before you cup each in your hands and start rubbing them tantalizingly while continuing to mindlessly ride him.

The weather outside is blustery, whipping rain and wind that has your curtains billowing gustily while you and Javi are completely swept up in the lascivious round of coupling, filling the room with the torrid squelching and skin-to-skin sounds of your rapturous lovemaking. Your heated skin feels the cool kiss of the breeze, but you're uncaring as you grope your breasts and ride his cock fervently while he fucks up in synchronized rhythm into your clenching pussy, hands greedy as they fondle, squeeze and clutch at your nubile form.

"Oh, Javi! F-Feels so good," you hiccup in a watery voice, getting quickly edged into a tizzy that has an orgasm prickling pleasure to radiate from the seat of your core into your throbbing clit. You pinch your nipples and sigh, "Javi—"

"Mmm, fuck. That's it, preciosa. So c-close," he groans as his thrusts become slamming pounds that steal your breath and have you dripping arousal while your pussy flutters around his pulsing shaft. "Such a good girl. Just take it, take it all—"

His breath catches in his chest when his heavy-lidded gaze looks up from where he's receded his thumb from your ass, to the mirror just as you sob a reedy cry of pleasure and climax on a whine of his name before arching forward and gripping the bed as you gush your orgasm. The sensation of your sheath strangling around him while your slick soaks his crotch has Javier biting down on a swear, clutching both hands on your waist, and barreling with burning need into you just as pleasure snaps loose and has his balls pulling up and tight against him from his searing climax.

You're turned into melted sinew after such an exhilaratingly, fierce sexcapade. So much so, that you realize after you come down from the post-bliss that Javier has you reclined back against him. His chest is so warm against your back while your overheated skin cools and your muscles throb in post-coital repose. He's breathing raggedly against the side of your head as he nuzzles you with primal affection and caresses your supple curves lovingly while his cock is still in the warm haven of your still-fluttering cunt.

There are no flirty, spent words between you whilst you both languidly cuddle and kiss, mirror's reflection forgotten to instead gaze dreamily at each other from under lust-heavy gazes. Your gravitation makes it easy to intrinsically speak with just a soft look or gentle glance, so while the rain picks up outside and fills the apartment with the languid atmospheric acoustics of a stormy morning, you both eventually saunter out of bed and into the bathroom together.

It isn't until the pleasant domesticity after your shared hot shower post-coital that Javi breaks the tranquility.

Handing you a towel before quickly grabbing his own to dry off, he smirks over at you and drawls, "You got your Sunday workout after all."

You pause in mid-dry on the fluffy rug in front of the shower stall while he impishly grins from where he's stood busily wrapping the towel around his waist.

It's too perfect. You can't even muster the haughty umbrage.

Tiptoeing over where he's standing on the opposite fluffy rug in front of the soaking tub, you stare up at him through the fringe of your dark lashes as you kiss his chest.

"It sure beat jogging, or doing a hot yoga session," you sultrily chirp, smirking as you turn to go brush your teeth.

Intrigued, he sweeps his hand to brush his wet hair back from his forehead. "Hot yoga?"

As you both go through the morning routine, you tell Javier about all the different workouts you do, and detail the difference between yoga and hot yoga. Of course, while you describe the kind of workout you get doing the latter, he fixates on picturing you stretched out in nimble poses while sweating it up in a heated studio, wearing a flimsy aerobics outfit that clings to your body. Especially when you mention that one of the poses is called 'downward dog.'

You catch the way his eyes darken in the mirror with lust at picturing you in the pose, so you turn from pulling on your buttery-soft Journey tour shirt and snicker at him before moving from the dresser to where he's still stood in the towel by the bed, where you'd set down the laundry basket.

"You behave while I make breakfast, and I might show you how limber I am now by getting into some of those yoga poses later," you sultrily proposition as you impishly snatch the towel from his waist and spank his bare butt before sauntering away to the bathroom to hang it up on the rack. You hear Javi make a gruff sound of enticement as he sorts through the clean laundry for something to wear. As you retrieve a scrunchie from a cubby on your vanity counter in order to quickly pull your hair up in a high ponytail, you tell him over your shoulder, "Since we went through the eggs and bacon yesterday, I'll make some avena and a fruit salad to hold us over until after food shopping—"

"Hmph. No offense, cariño, but I'm starving and in need of something meaty after how ragged you've run me already," Javi drawls as he comes in and leans against the bathroom's doorway.

Turning to scowl sarcastically at him, you end up giving him a flirty once over, thanks to him wearing only a pair of jeans he'd snagged from the pile you'd washed last night and had set aside. With his clothes from Friday night and the ones in the gym bag, a lot of his laundry required ironing, or were in the load you'd tossed in the dryer earlier, so besides a few undershirts, a pair of white socks and skivvies, he didn't have any clean shirts to wear.

Smirking at him, you lope by him and crook your finger for him to follow you as you remark, "Well, since we woke up early, we can get breakfast at the panadería before we go food shopping," then impishly smile as you open a dresser drawer to retrieve something before tossing it over to him, chiming, "And since it's just a dreary, rainy Sunday, it'll be ok for you to wear this."

Javi easily catches his gray college shirt.

It's soft, scented with the gentle hint of fabric softener from the other shirts it was folded under, and smelling of you.

"You know, when I went through the box of stuff, and didn't find this in there, I wondered," he murmurs as he glances over at you before pulling the shirt on. Once he's tugged it down over his torso, he fusses with his hair to keep from fidgeting from the admittance.

"Wondered?" you ask and try not to outwardly fawn over how good the shirt looks on him, as it accentuates his broad shoulders, defined pecs, and muscular arms.

You're internally drooling on wanting to kiss his biceps when he elaborates, "I wondered if you kept it, in order to send a message. Sort of like a hint that you still wanted to work things out."

Blinking, you self-consciously scoff, "No, actually, I'd been so mad while I was packing your things, I forgot I had the shirt tucked away in my nightgown drawer." At the comical way Javier's shoulders droop and his mustachioed lip curls in a frown, you rush over to hug him around his waist and effervescently assure, "But yes! I think I subconsciously wanted to keep it as a way to lure you back to me, because when I found it afterward, I didn't want to part with it. Call me sentimental, I guess."

Javi snorts, deadpanning, "Yeah, right. Nice try with the save."

You laugh and pinch his waist before standing on your tippy toes to kiss his haughtily pursed lips until he surrenders and smiles.

Once you're both dressed in t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers – ready for a rainy morning of running errands, you take Javier's car to the panadería, and run in together huddled under your coral-colored collapsible umbrella from where he parked, into the bustling business to get in the queue to order your meals at the counter. His stomach growls at the delicious aromas filling the space while most opt to eat-in to avoid the deluge, and he's marveling at the portion sizes of the sandwiches most are indulging in at the cafeteria-style tables.

"Don't worry. I'll order for you," is your confident lilt as you gesture to a little table by the front window of the bakery, handing him the now compact umbrella while you suggest, "Oh, can you go grab that corner for us?"

Intrigued, Javi nods and affectionately caresses his hand along the small of your back as he walks over and weaves through the tables to get to the tucked away 2-seater. He idly looks around the space, staring at the Valentine's Day decorations festooned behind the counter and the dangling hearts hanging from the ceiling. The bombardment of cherubic cupids plastered along the walls in between the store signs has him making a mental note to look for a florist, hoping he can find one for the romantic holiday.

After a few minutes, you arrive at the table with two to-go coffee cups, and smile when Javi chivalrously gets up to pull back your seat for you.

"So? What'd you order?" he asks and pesteringly slides the cup from your grasp so he can box your hand in between both of his, squeezing and massaging it as you snicker at him.

"You'll see!" is all you offer, smiling and patting your free hand reassuringly over his left one.

Humming, he checks his watch before glancing out at the stormy street beyond the glass window.

"It feels so much later than it is. I don't think the sun has come out this whole weekend," he marvels, letting your hand slip free from between both of his so you can peel the flaps back on each cup before sliding one to him.

"Yeah, and it's gonna be like that into most of this week, too," you muse before taking a sip of your coffee.

He grunts, holding his cup between his palms as he looks back at you. The hesitance that had been keeping you pensive and reluctant before is gone, and he senses you're not rueful anymore about pursuing things again, so he wonders if he should suggest wanting to meet your father. You had said he knew about your relationship, and that things between you were much better, but he wasn't sure if that would have your guard snap back up.

Just as he was getting the courage to ask, the lady behind the serving counter shouts out a number, and you turn to gesture that you're on your way to grab it. "Be right back," you snicker to him before rushing up and weaving your way to the counter.

Javi takes the chance alone to argue with himself as he drinks his coffee. We both agreed to take it slow, so maybe bringing up meeting her father right now would come off as a big step?

Ruminating a bit more about it, Javier is distracted in his thoughts when you make it back to the table with a cafeteria tray housing two sandwiches and large cups of freshly-prepared tropical fruit juice. But the moment you place it down and merrily sit across from him with a grin, his eyes go wide at the sandwich you've just slid towards him.

"Holy hell, what is this?!" he exclaims as he gapes at the massive sandwich while you innocently pull yours over and cutely rub your hands together.

"That, is a tripleta," you chime as you dutifully point at each layer housed within the fresh-baked pan criollo and list, "Grilled steak, lechón – aka roasted pork, and sliced deli ham, topped with onions, fries, fresh lettuce and tomato, ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, and slices of cheese," you pause when he just gawks at the thing, so you hand him a napkin and innocently chirp, "Buen provecho, querido."

To say Javier has never had a more formidable sandwich in his life, would be an understatement. He figured it served him right for telling you he was starving and needing something substantial to satisfy his appetite. And by the way you're impishly eating your much smaller sandwich criollo de desayuno? It was obvious you were thinking the same thing.

Needless to say, he is stuffed to the gills and more than content to push the shopping cart along while you both are grocery shopping a short time later.

"—Christ, I don't think I'll need to eat for the next two days," he's quipping laconically now while you peruse the produce section. You giggle and look over at him when he leans his forearms on the cart's handle and mutters, "I gotta tell Steve. He'd love that sandwich. Although Connie would probably fret over the calorie overload—"

You laugh out, shaking your head in amusement as you bag some veggies before placing them in the cart. "It is a culinary staple here," is your chuckled musing as you tow the front of the cart for him to resume walking along to the fruit section. "The four of us will need to go food-hopping around the island sometime."

That makes him feel pride expand warmly in his chest. "We should. I wanna try that mofongo you've raved about—"

"Mmm, damn. I haven't had it in a while, too," you sigh as you pout at him when he scoffs. "What? My diet cut out starches and carbohydrates, so no plantains—"

"I would go crazy if I had to keep track of that stuff. I just eat whatever. Figure jogging and lifting weights makes up for it," he mutters as he peers at the label on one of the local fruits.

You roll your eyes, and grumble, "It's so easy for guys to stay in shape," and stop yourself from rambling, 'never having to deal with hormonal fluctuations,' because it cuts too close to the real reason you had to pursue a more fit lifestyle. So, you instead gripe, "You get to eat a tripleta and not have to worry about gaining any weight!"

Pushing the cart along to keep up with your meandering perusing, Javi checks out your ass when you bend to tighten one of your shoelaces. "Oh, I'll pay for that in heartburn later, most likely, but will work it off on my run tomorrow," is his affable retort, smiling when you stand and catch his leer, so you bossily tug the front of the cart along.

"Well, it's not like you have a tripleta every day, so you can indulge," you concede, before adding thoughtfully, "And food-hopping along kioskos is mostly about grazing rather than sitting and having a full-fledged meal, so it's definitely not a gluttony fest. Not to mention most of it will be fresh, using locally-sourced ingredients."

"Anything would be better than all the fast-food spots Steve's dragged me to since I got down here," is his droll drawl, giving you a lopsided smirk when you turn from bagging a bunch of bananas to hum for him to elaborate. "He's adamant that McDonald's tastes better down here, and loves all the local franchises. I definitely have to keep hitting the gym if I keep going to lunch with him," he rumbles and goofily pats his stomach.

"Hah, well Puerto Rican cuisine ain't slimming either, stud," you deride as you move on to the next stall to pick out some tangerines. "Luckily, though, I can indulge more now that I fit these jeans again, so taking you to have a mofongo relleno de camarones is definitely in the cards," is your musing, emphasizing your point by patting your tush and winking at him.

Chuckling, Javi teases, "As long as you're dessert? Sure."

You scoff girlishly and flick your ponytail over your shoulder as you scathe, "Quit being naughty in the fruit aisle, perv," while the smile in your eyes gives your enticement away before your plush lips pull into that enchanting smirk he loves so much.

"You know I can't help it, bravita," he tuts, and before he's thought it through, he blurts, "Loving you forever is only going to make it happen more."

As soon as he registers what he's said, he pauses in stride, thinking it much too glib, and expecting you to bristle. Instead, you turn and feign aloofness before sighing matter-of-factly, "You're lucky I love you enough to not mind that one bit."

He stares as you resume picking through fruit options, as if you haven't just reached into his chest and strummed his heartstrings – reverberating a sense of perfect harmony to fill him up.

Completely smitten, Javi gazes at you like you've unlocked something precious from within you and handed it to him for safe keeping. It makes a vast feeling of divine devotion settle in for good behind his ribcage, and he ends up becoming distracted with a sudden daydream of you looking up at him through your lashes from behind a sheer veil, when you turn and smile before clicking your tongue and tossing something at him.

Javi snaps out of his thoughts just in time to catch what you'd tossed as you singsong, "Thinking about the last time you had one of those?"

He snorts as he caresses the luscious peach in his hand before cocking a smug brow at you. "No, but I am now, you little tease," is his husk as he maneuvers the cart to box you in next to the fruit stall so he can swoop in next to you and pin you against him in order to pepper merciless kisses along your neck and jaw.

The peel of laughter you let out has a few heads turning to catch you two canoodling next to the plums, peaches and grapes, so you end up hissing goofily at him to stop when you catch some of the amused looks.

By the time you get to your door with the bags of groceries a while later, you and Javi are mirthfully ribbing each other about anything and everything while you breeze into your apartment and carry everything to the kitchen counter to work together in storing everything in its rightful place.

"—You're going to catch a cold, Javier!"

"I've run while it's raining plenty of times, gatita. It actually feels good—"

"But it's winter and flu season here, so you should just run on a treadmill at the gym instead—"

"Are you going to skip your jogs?"

"Yes! I'll meet Zoraida at one of her aerobics classes instead—"

"Mmm, you gotta model the outfits you wear to those classes for me so I can see if they're overly sexy and not appropriate for you to leave the house in—"

"Hah! What, crees que siendo mi jevo gives you the right to veto my workout outfits now?"

"At the very least, I should have an idea how hot you look when you're working up a sweat during those classes—"

Scoffing haughtily as you amble away to the answering machine after Javier cockily tries to tow you against him and the kitchen counter, you sardonically counter, "Come to one of the classes with me, and I'll let you pick what I wear."

"Even if I can't do much more than whatever is on a Richard Simmons tape?" is his sarcastic remark, smirking when you laugh out at the mental image he's conjured.

Snickering as you press the play button on the machine, you shake your head derisively while you sit on the sofa to shuck your sneakers off. Letting out a sultry sigh, you lilt, "Please tell me you have a pair of super risqué workout shorts like Richard Simmons'—"

The answering machine finishes reciting its automated message before playing the first voicemail.

"Hey, nena. You're all set for the restaurant reservation! You definitely owe me, and I'll take payment in you dishing about your jevo in full detail – you can't spare a single thing! Anyway, enjoy, and call me later!"

Javier sits next to you and stretches out his arm along the back of the couch while the next message gets cued up. Glancing confidently at you when you rest your head on his shoulder, Javi charms, "Shit, that's gonna be a lot of torrid history you'll be giving her—"

"She mostly will want to know how good you fuck, and make me tell her the best sex you've ever given me," you charge blithely, grinning when he balks at you. Shrugging, you inflect chipperly, "I'll have a lot of tantalizing options to choose from—"

"Hola, tesoro. Wanted to see if you were still open to spending time together next Sunday. Let me know. Cuídate."

Javier feels you tense as your father's message plays, and frowns when you sit up and contemplate it before you sigh. You rub your fingers along your forehead, trying to quell the wave of emotion that's threatening to spring up in you. "Ugh, I almost forgot about it…"

Reaching his hand to your shoulder, Javi gives it a fortifying squeeze. "About?"

Pinching the bridge of your nose to stifle the ache behind your eyes, you sniffle before leaning back into the couch and keeping your gaze averted.

"…My mother's anniversary. Sunday is her birthday…the accident happened two days after her birthday…"

Sadness settles into his chest like a stone, and he feels you start to recede into yourself, so he wraps his arm around you and cups his other hand at your cheek, tilting your face up so he can press a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes flutter and you lean into him with a relieved exhale, so Javi holds you to him while you curl up and explain what your father had been referring to.

Every other time the anniversary had come around, Javier had been away – on a stakeout or on assignment in Medellín, so you'd never mentioned it. He feels guilty knowing you didn't want to ever burden him, so he murmurs into your ear, "I'm sorry, Celina. I should've been there—"

You shake your head and caress your cheek against his. "No. I never said anything because I just…I usually just block it out. So I never really did anything to acknowledge it…" you sigh, before curling into him more. "…In any case, we'll probably just spend the day together, so there's no point in canceling. It would only hurt his feelings," you finish telling him, head resting on his shoulder before you turn your face into his neck and seek the comfort of his warm skin and scent.

He rubs your back, humming in agreement. "I'm here if you need me, mi amor," he tells you softly against the top of your hairline before nuzzling a kiss there.

You loop your arms around him and squeeze him tight, murmuring a hushed, "Thanks."

The rest of the rainy afternoon is spent on your sofa, curled up together in idle chatter. He was able to get you out of the melancholic rut by asking you about your friends, specifically wondering out loud how famous Zoraida was to get you reservations at the fanciest restaurant in the metropolitan area on such short notice.

"—Oh, I should've looked at the magazine rack at the checkout to see if she was on any of them this week," you're remarking as you snap your fingers and press your lips together admonishingly while he snorts and props himself up on his elbow so he can look down at you. "Anyway, she's a former Miss Puerto Rico, and she placed in the top five of Miss Universe a few years in a row," is your explanation, smiling when his brows arch up in surprise. Petting his curling whisps of hair at his temple, you lift your head from the armrest to slink up more comfortably against him as you add, "She's a marketing maven, too. Brand ambassador for the tourism board, and she's featured on all the big ad campaigns all over the island – from cosmetics to general lifestyle stuff. She's always going on the late-night variety shows, and does a weekly feature on the top morning radio show."

"Well, shit. And you've known each other since you were kids?" he asks as he idly traces his thumb along the curve of your hip.

"Basically, yeah. We went to the same school – all of us did, during middle school years, and we've stayed in touch. I've always been close to Zory, since she lived in the same neighborhood too. We used to sneak out to parties together," you tell him and meekly smile as memories to that fact cross your mind. "We were all a little clique, though. Everyone called us 'Las Adas' but with an A instead of 'hadas' with an H because all of our names end in 'A'—"

"A regular Charlie's Angels, eh?" he can't help razz, smirking when you scrunch your nose cutely at him.

"Charlie's Angels were three girls, not four, you dork," is your snappy comeback, smiling when he rolls his eyes and wrinkles the top of his lip up in a silly sneer.

While you two continue to banter back and forth, a mystery faction associated with the drug distribution channels throughout the Caribbean is caught unawares by an unknown rival. The ensuing bloody takedown spans several drug dens and points where product was being moved, leading to a riotous chaos across several public housing territories across the island, including the one Lopez and Duffy had surveillance on.

The agents were forced to try and cut off escape of the hooded sicarios, but were no match for the high-powered weapons they used to spray bullet fire across a precarious radius, putting civilians and officers alike in danger.

When it was all said and done, the two agents were rocked, standing in the center of a bloodbath with no idea what the fuck happened. Police – state, municipal, and district patrol were milling around, quibbling over jurisdiction, cordoning off the scenes, and waving the forensic sciences unit in to sort through the massacred bodies.

Javier's cell phone rings on the console, where he'd left it after returning from the errands, next to where you have yours charging. Having just gotten comfortable on the sofa to start watching a movie, you end up pressing pause on the VCR remote while he rushes up from his seat next to you to quickly answer, "Peña."

You'd been hoping it was Steve, or maybe his father, just calling to check in on him on an early Sunday night, but then you watch his back go rigid and his shoulders stiffen.

"…I'll be right there," he forges out tersely, ending the call and swearing under his breath before turning to look at you with a guarded scowl. "I gotta go," he exhales gruffly as he pockets his cell phone and grabs his keys, then his wallet to do the same while rushing to get his sneakers back on. Sitting on the couch, he fumbles with tying his shoes once he's yanked them on, so you put your hand on his thigh and tow him back from the brooding mire his mind had already begun to go into. Huffing as he scrubs his hand over his stubble-covered cheek, he looks at you worriedly and mumbles, "I'm sorry, querida."

With serene grace, you take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly before resting your forehead to his. In a firm timbre, you insist, "Don't worry about it. Just make sure you do not get pulled under or ground down by everything, because you're not alone and you have plenty of capable people here to share the burden. And if you start slipping into old patterns, I'm going to kick your ass, ok?"

Exhaling a chortled sound and biting his bottom lip to stifle a grin, he nods and cups the back of your neck in order to tow you into a toe-curling, yearning kiss.

Once he's got his things, you loop your arms around his shoulders and melt at how intensely he hugs you.

"I'll call you," he promises as he nuzzles the hinge of your jaw.

"I know," you murmur before you lean back and caress his cheek lovingly. "Oh, and since you don't have one, take the umbrella," is your bossy order as you dip over to grab it from where you left it to dry on the counter, handing it to him while he scoffs and shakes his head derisively. "Nope, you're the boss, and you can't be wading around, getting soggy in the rain!"

"Alright, mandona," he relents and pecks you on the lips before opening the door, stalling in stepping out to the outer hall to linger close and tell you in a low register, "I love you."

Feeling your heart soar, you steal one last kiss from his full lips before susurrating, "I love you too."

You want to tell him so much more, like 'I'm going to miss you. Please be careful. I don't want to lose you,' but internally bristle at how needy and clingy that would be, so instead you wave at him once he's walked off and looked back to smile at you before turning the corner to head to the elevator.

As soon as you've locked up, you abort watching the movie by turning the VCR and TV off, deciding to instead draw a hot bubble bath and have a long soak to soothe your very sore and tender muscles after the weekend of marathon lovemaking.

While you're melting into the tranquil water and lounging back in the tub, Javier is arriving at the scene thirty minutes later. The deluge had inundated a lot of the sparse greenery that skirted the large lot now acting as the makeshift gathering zone in front of the sprawling public housing complex that was currently being spot-lit so crime scene techs could work trying to reconstruct the scene.

Having had the presence of mind to gear up in your garage before driving over, Javier was able to exit his car already wearing a black tactical vest with the letters 'DEA' printed in bold white font on the back, and his agent shield was clipped at his hip on his belt. In hindsight, the bright-colored umbrella made him stick out like a jackass, or so he imagined thanks to the stray glances he caught coming his way as he maneuvered around the cordoned off entry to the caserío.

"Boss!" he heard before he saw Segarra bound over, wearing a black baseball cap to cover his head from the rain that was pelting down.

Acknowledging the man with a curt nod, Javier follows him as they walk towards the courtyard that is a bullet-casing-riddled scene. "What're we looking at?"

"It was a coordinated hit. Five other caseríos were targeted, but this is the one we had under surveillance. So far, it looks like a rival gang, but we're not sure who," the man grouses in a low tone as he leads Javier through the outskirts of the courtyard to a more gruesome scene within one of the ground-level housing units. Javi seamlessly shuts the umbrella, collapsing it down to be compact enough for him to shove it into the back of his jean pocket while Segarra continues to detail, "Looks like they took out the spotters, then came in through the back, and exited through the front of the complex. The odd thing is, it doesn't look like anything was taken—"

"No shit, Sherlock!"

Javier looks over into the interior of an apartment with a busted down door to see the head of the ATF operation on the island, Agent Tom Vernon, saunter over the bullet-riddled body of a would-be dealer before approaching them.

"Tom," Javier greets and shakes the man's hand before reticently gesturing with a nod of his head to the plethora of bullet casings scattered across every visible surface on the ground. "I take it this might be from that shipment you told us about?"

"Looks like it, Jav. This is pretty sophisticated fire power for a bunch of tecatos," the tall, old-fashion swagger-filled man drawls before signaling down the dimly lit hall towards a back-facing unit. "And, the formation they used to get in, clip everyone, and head back out? Not the usual spray and dash fest I'm used to seeing at these scenes. Well, except for outside. Although, I got a feeling that was more to send a message to the civilians residing through the complex. Especially after your guys gave chase."

The man sweeps back his rain-damp hair as he waves Javier through to the next apartment that seems to be the epicenter of the hit. It's there that he finds Lopez and Duffy assessing the scene.

"—Pretty curious to kill all these fellas and not take any of the cash or drugs," Agent Vernon deadpans while he saunters about, being mindful of the pools of blood and viscera. "My guys said it was the same at the other sites, so quite a puzzle," is his musing observation as he lopes back out the way he came, right past Javier's ASAC.

Glaring at Segarra when he notices the man has remained in the threshold of the door and is visibly blanching at the gory scene, Javier clears his throat to get his attention before ordering, "Get the commanding officer for the local precinct in here."

Nodding vigorously, Segarra hustles out the way they came to do the errand.

Once Javier's made his way to the back of the kitchen area where the crime scene tech was currently snapping photos of the victim slumped against the far wall, he flags Lopez and Duffy to huddle up with him.

"What the fuck happened? None of this was caught on surveillance chatter?!" he grounds out.

"Not a goddamn thing, Jav," Duffy grunts, clearly frustrated as he keeps looking over at the scene in the back hall leading to the bedroom. "One minute they were shooting the shit about the fucking baseball tournament, and the next it's bedlam—"

"None of this makes sense. This is a tactical hit. But then they didn't take anything. Even if they had, none of the rival gangs are crazy enough to pull something like this. Most are just trying to carve out dealing points and kick tribute up to the capos that run their turf, but this is like…" Lopez pauses in his vehement reasoning when he looks over at the deceased victim left slumped in the kitchen.

Looking over and back at the agent, Javier reads his gaze, and asks, "Your informant?"

Nodding, the man wrings his hand down his face in exasperation. "I barely recognized her…"

Javi exchanges a look with Duffy before nodding in the direction of the front door as he orders, "Go home. We'll let the locals in. Be ready to regroup in the morning."

As Javier follows them out and meets up with the commanding officer on the scene, you're listening to the late evening news detail the massacres across caseríos while you're finishing your weekly ironing. You glance up at the TV when they mention how authorities suspect a rival gang clearing out competition across several known drug points throughout the metropolitan area, and just as the reporter in the rain parka details the statements from eyewitnesses, you think you spot a coral-colored umbrella in the background of the scene, from behind the cavalcade of milling personnel and forensic sciences resources.

Before you could confirm whether it was Javi, the news segment veered away to a statement from the governor's office. Pensive, you toil on the rest of the chores for a while longer before calling it a night and heading into your bedroom to change into a warm nightgown. You've just slipped under the coverlet and begun getting cozy in bed when your cell phone starts ringing where you placed it to charge next to you on the nightstand.

You pick it up and answer, "Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry to call so late," Javi's velvety baritone instantly calms you to lean back on the propped pillows, with a smile.

"Ah, I was still up. You home?" is your retort as you multitask checking on the alarm clock being set for the morning.

"Yeah. Just got out of the shower. Anyway, I won't keep you—"

"So, that means you're not wearing anything?" you sweetly query, grinning when you hear him scoff amusedly.

"Just my birthday suit, guapita," he chuckles, and you can hear him flop onto his bed, and the sound of his shifting over the covers to get comfortable. He lets out a cleansing exhale before he mutters, "Wish you were here."

"You act like we don't have a big date night coming soon," you simper humorously, snickering when he grumbles contrarily in a huffy breath 'You know what I mean,' so you remark good-naturedly, "I think I saw you on the news tonight."

"…Oh?" he tentatively murmurs, as if concerned.

Humming, you quip, "Well, I'm pretty sure I saw my umbrella way in the background, anyway."

Javier lets out a relieved huff before drawling, "I got so many funny looks. Definitely need to get an umbrella that's not neon orange. I'll return it tomorrow—"

"Oh, I have another one stored in my car, so you can keep it, chulito," is your easygoing assurance, but by the way he grunts wryly, you know he can hear the cheeky smile in your tone.

"Hmph, well in any case, I'll have it when I go pick you up for the dinner date," is his debonair croon.

"Don't forget to give Steve the restaurant details," you instruct merrily before yawning.

"I won't. Now go to sleep," he purrs ruggedly before husking, "I love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care," you murmur affectionately.

"You too. Goodnight, querida."

As you turn out the light and curl up to sleep hugging the pillow Javier slept on, he's lying flat on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, watching the fan's blades languidly spin.

He'd gotten to his house, gone in through the laundry room door after parking his car into the marquesina, and had stripped the tac-vest to be tossed down on top of the dryer before peeling the rest of his damp clothes off to be tossed unceremoniously into the washer. Even with your ridiculously cheerful-colored umbrella, the unrelenting downpour and blustery wind had been ruthless. It had seeped through it all, and as soon as he shucked it all off, he took a long hot shower and ruminated about everything, trying to decompress from the sordid scene.

No matter how much experience he had, walking through the aftermath of a massacre always hit like a sledgehammer. It would stay with him, and make it hard for his mind to not fixate on solutions to a problem that was beyond his means to solve. Still, he would run elements of the investigation in his head over and over, trying to find the pieces that eluded him from formulating an effective plan of action. To seeing the bigger picture of those involved in order to find a weakness to exploit.

This wasn't like Escobar. Hell, even with Cali, they'd known all the players. Here, there were levels to this – a circuitous, series of insulated networks. There wasn't a neat flowchart they could tack up as a suspect board.

With his thoughts whirring around with the information he knew so far from the investigation, sleep is elusive, and it takes hours for Javier to finally succumb to a fitful slumber. It's aided more so by his mind flashing back to the walls caked in blood, and the sporadic flash of crime scene photos being taken of the slumped, crumpled bodies strewn across the low-income housing complex.

Meanwhile, an interested party is watching the repeated news coverage from their office in a fortressed villa off on the eastern coast of the island.

Annoyed, José Figueroa Agosto, known to most as Junior Capsula, was already reaching for his burner phone when the door to his office was opened.

"What's up, Junior!" the man greeted jovially, as if he wasn't waltzing into the private office of one of the most wanted men in Puerto Rico.

"Puñeta, you gotta knock and at least pretend you respect me, cabrón," Junior huffs and glares at his friend and silent partner before swiveling back to stare at the TV. "I think you overdid it."

Blowing as raspberry, the man slanted his shoulders as he leaned into the wall by the opulent desk. "I think it went smoothly. Plus, it should keep everyone spinning while we make the move," is the musing retort.

Swiveling back to eye him sharply, Junior, who was becoming known as the Pablo Escobar of the Caribbean, glared at the cool, easygoing smirk his socio gives him. "We've been doing just fine the way things were. This is a risk that better pay off—"

"Trust me. I have even more riding on this, so give me credit," is the aloof drawl, and when Junior doesn't seem amused, he gives him a one-shouldered shrug. "Can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, Junior."

Snorting, the head of the drug trafficking organization that controlled 90% of cocaine in Puerto Rico, Junior leaned back in his chair and shook his head while his buddy fixed himself his go-to drink from the inset bar adjacent to the entertainment center.

When the man brings him the tequila on the rocks he poured for him, hands it to Junior, and then clinks his own glass with his, he cheers along with him before relenting affably, "Ah pues bien, Señor Gatsby."

Snickering mildly at the heckled nickname Junior loved to needle him with, thanks to his drink of choice – among other things, he crisply sneers after turning to drop into the sofa in front of the TV before muttering, "Change the channel to something worth fucking while."

If Javier knew how circuitous the investigation was going to become thanks to Junior's silent partner, he likely wouldn't have managed any sleep at all.

Suddenly awaking just before dawn from a surreal dream in which he was looking for you in the dim-lit hall of the caserío while chasing the echo of your voice, it takes him a few moments to realize what jolted him to bolt up in bed was a roar of thunder reverberating the cement walls of his room. He looks around the penumbra of his bedroom and realizes the downpour of last night had transitioned to a full-blown thunderstorm. The curtains over his windows quiver with the pressure of the wind outside pressing against the air in the house. Exhaling harshly, he shuts his eyes to get his bearings.

Once his pulse returns to normal, he flings himself backwards into the bed and wrings his hands over his tired features. Fuck, can't ever just shake it off. You gotta tune it out and shut it away. Can't have it weighing you down and distracting you. Not anymore.

When he's unable to get back to sleep, he hauls himself out of bed and gets into his sweats, only to end up frowning at the continued booms of thunder rumbling out in the not-so-far distance.

So, he decides to work out in his living room. Without weights, he's relegated to doing sit-ups for several sets before transitioning to push-ups. With the excess energy expended and his mind a bit clearer, Javier gets going on preparing for a long day.

You're doing the same, albeit without the sense of looming trepidation that Javi has. No, you had a wonderful night's sleep, and even procrastinated in getting out of bed, having decided to skip your morning run until the storm system finally moved out. You took the time to enjoy making yourself a fruit bowl for breakfast, and even took the opportunity to put together a decent lunch. Once it was packed in your tote, you rushed to finish getting ready before grabbing your things and hustling out the door.

By the time you're in morning traffic, Javier's on his second cup of coffee, having showered and gotten in his dark blue suit. He was distractedly looking at his reflection mirroring back at him from the glass of the slider door next to his empty dining room space, already pondering about his team's possible courses of action, when Kike pulls up to the front of the house and beeps the horn.

The day is a blur for both of you. So much so, you don't even get to talk at all.

You spend the bulk of it dealing with a contentious series of calls between Human Resources and the Department of Labor, who had received challenges to your termination of resources the week prior, so you ended up having to provide tons of documentation to justify the matter. By the time it was settled enough to not monopolize anymore of your day, you had actual work to catch up on, so you didn't leave the office until very late.

Javier was still in the conference room with Duffy and Lopez as the agents sorted through the literal post-mortem of the events the night before, trying to sift through the evidence and surveillance footage to find a clue of some kind that would implicate someone.

"—Ok, then we need to reconsider things. Every site was under a different capo's jurisdiction, but none of them have a turf war going on, so could it be internal?" Javier asks as he scrubs his palm idly across his jaw while reclined in the uncomfortable chair that faces the makeshift evidence board rigged up with all the maps, surveillance targets, and known cartel org chart.

"At this rate, anything is fuckin' possible," Duffy grumbles as he glares at some of the logs before pointing at one from earlier in the day and rhetorically muttering, "Maybe these assholes didn't pay their dues?"

Lopez was reticent, sitting adjacent from the board, with his chin resting over his propped hands. Segarra, who hadn't stopped checking his watch periodically ever thirty minutes, was waiting for permission to fuck off, and the more Javier sat there, he was inclined to fuck off himself. But then something Tom Vernon said the night before came back to him now.

"…They didn't take anything, because they already have a steady flow of cash and drugs moving in. So, they took out the points. That means there's some other influx of product that's going to supplement the business lost. All that stuff was for local sales, right?" Javier directs the question to the two agents, who exchange a look.

"Yeah. Everything was already broken out for the dealers. That's why there was so much cash on hand," Duffy replies, arms crossing as he deliberates what that means.

"We have to trace back where the distribution is coming from. We've been trying to track it leaving the island. Finding where it's coming in from might help us break down who has the most invested in taking out the points selling locally," Javi strategizes, and that seems to finally pull Lopez out of his funk. "Nic, can you put feelers out?"

"Already got a few in mind," Lopez murmurs, nodding in acknowledgment to the board as he remarks, "Some of those fuckers are bound to be chatty the next few days."

With a consensus being reached, Javier calls it a night, to the relief of his ASAC. The man wished him a good night while he headed out to the corridor, making it a point to wait until the department was empty to then grab his things and feign like he'd been the last man out.

He was tempted to tell the guy to quit being a fucking brown-noser, but was frankly short of patience as it was, so he just walked out of the building to meet his ride home.

Kike had coordinated with Javi to be driven home by Steve's guy, Wilmer Otero, since he'd be taking an advanced weapons training course that evening to get certified. With the umbrella in hand, Javi hustles through the inclement rain up to the door.

"Good evening, Agent Peña!" the officer dressed in plain clothes greeted affably once he got in. He was just as friendly as Kike, but was more fluent in English. Steve loved the guy and couldn't have vouched enough for him, so Javier was at ease with him once he'd settled into the passenger's seat.

"Thanks for the ride, Wilmer. Hopefully I'm not keeping you from anything," is his cool remark while the car cruises out of the Federal campus en route for his neighborhood.

"Nah, my girlfriend goes to night school, so I'd be home bored anyway, sir," Wilmer chuckles, before amiably commenting, "That's an eye-catching umbrella!"

Snorting, Javi shakes his head sardonically as he places the neon orange item between his press shoes. "It's on loan from my girlfriend."

"Ah, yeah that makes more sense," Wilmer snickers as he navigates through the light traffic. "Su jeva tiene estilo."

Humming in agreement with his comment, 'Your girl has style,' Javi takes pride in saying, "That, she does."

The thought of you smiling at him last night floats up to his mind's eye, and lingers to trigger replaying all the moments you'd both shared. By the time he gets home, he takes the chance that you might still be up to call your cell phone, but the line rings without answer, so he hangs up and strips out of his work clothes to shower, mind already getting preoccupied with his plans for the following day.

You'd been so exhausted from all the hecticness in the office that you'd dropped all your belongings on the console by the door and gone right to bed, then ended up sleeping through your alarm and having to do a mad-dash to get ready for work in the morning. It wasn't until you'd made it up to your office that you checked your phone and noticed the missed call. Unfortunately, you had a meeting first thing, so you added calling Javier back to your itinerary, mentally penciling it in for some time after lunch.

Arriving back to your department an hour later, you don't expect for the team's admin to merrily greet you before you've even finished passing through the entry.

"—Someone has a secret admirer!" Olga simpers conspiratorially when you lope over to her desk. "A special delivery just got dropped off for you. I left it in your office."

Intrigued and a bit bemused, you head to your office and enter to find a lavish bouquet of beautiful tropical flowers of all kinds housed within a lovely crystal vase sat on your desk. The arrangement of orchids, hibiscus, plumeria, amaryllis and damask rose flowers are a vibrant cluster of fragrant, enchantingly beautiful hues that were framed by dreamy sprays of freesia. It was the grandest flower bouquet you'd ever received, and you were dazzled by the flashy romantic gesture.

Javier is in his office looking over some files on previous drug busts when his cell phone rings.

"Peña."

"Hey! Sorry I missed your call last night. Yesterday had me running on fumes," your voice has a smile instantly tugging at his full lips as he sits back in his chair. Just as he's about to tell you not to worry about it, you follow up with a low, sultrily murmured, "Thanks for the lovely surprise, by the way. I can't believe you took the time to get something so lavish delivered to my office. You didn't have to go through the trouble, chulito."

Confused, Javi sits up in his cushy desk chair as he clears his throat and rumbles, "Oh?"

"It's beautiful. Definitely the most fantastic flower bouquet I've ever gotten! It's going to be interesting getting it down to my car to take it home, though—" you're remarking in a melodious timbre, all the while Javier is trying to figure out if it's possible that the flower shop screwed up? But then he remembers he'd never given them a direction for your office.

No, he'd called the shop Wilmer recommended to him and had left his information to pick up the bouquet he intended to give you tonight before taking you out to the double date.

So, reluctantly, Javi cuts in and tentatively tells you, "Querida, I'm sorry, but I didn't set up for anything to be delivered to your office."

Your brow furrows with confusion before you look back from where you'd been idly wandering around your office to stare at the arrangement. "…You didn't?" is your dubious query as you go over to the flowers and begin looking for a missed gift card or note.

"No. I mean, after the last time I'd left flowers on your desk, I figured it'd be bad to do a repeat of that, especially here," he remarks honestly, and you hum, thinking to yourself that you had been surprised he would be so flashy, all things considered. His guttural huff now has you frowning. You're about to tell him to never mind as you continue to peek through the stems for a misplaced card, but then he laconically grumbles, "Shit, don't tell me you got some other guy trying to make you his Valentine."

You scoff, shaking your head amusedly as you slap your hand down on your side in surrender when you don't find a note in the bouquet. "Alright, then it definitely must be some mistake. Maybe the delivery person brought it to the wrong office," is your dismissive sigh, and at his dry grunt, you snicker, "I promise, you're the only guy I want as my Valentine, stud. No one else. Just want you today and every other day, infinitum, you hear me?"

Smirking, Javi can't help goadingly drawl, "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to prove it to me, later tonight."

The smoky hum you give him is musing, before you silkily purr, "Too bad I can't head to your office right now and show you just how much I mean it, guapito. But don't worry, I'll prove it to you by riding you like the sexy stud you are. Then, you can make me yours while I say your name all night long. Sound good, mi cariñito?"

Javi feels hot under the collar with how turned on your saucy suggestion gets him, and it takes all his willpower not to fixate on how want is pulsing down into his loins. He scrubs his hand over his moustache before dragging it down his chin with a grunt. "Yeah, that sounds really good," he husks, biting his bottom lip at your alluring, pleased hum. "I'll come to the door to pick you up tonight," he tells you in a smooth baritone before letting it get a gravel pitch as he adds, "Although, with how naughty you're being, I might just end up taking you to bed so I can give you a real Valentine treat."

You feel your pussy throb at his words, and can't muster anything more than a girlish scoff as you retort, "You're not getting out of a double date with Connie and Steve that easily, chavón."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His raspy chuckle filters in your ear and sends a delighted shiver up your spine. "Alright. See you tonight, mi amor."

After exchanging goodbyes with him, you end up taking a moment to collect your thoughts from the pining whimsy he flung you into. If Javi didn't get this bouquet, then who did?

You go back out to Olga's desk. "Hey, when the delivery person dropped the flowers off, did they include a note or a little card?" you ask, hoping it'd just slipped her mind.

"Uh, no," she replies, and before you can ask the obvious question, she assures, "They're definitely for you, though. The delivery was addressed to you, but there was no information on the sender listed. That's why I said you must have a secret admirer."

Perplexed, you find yourself nodding in acknowledgement before ponderingly wandering back to your office. Maybe they're a gift from Dad? As soon as you think it, you immediately disregard the possibility. He would never send anything here. And he would've sent a card along. You stare at the flowers, wracking your brain with just who would gift you something so lux.

The curious mystery percolates the rest of the work day while you go to meetings and during lunch, as you nibble on a protein bar at your desk and multitask checking emails while glancing at the flowers every once in a while. The mystery bothers you so that at the end of the day, you go to the Telecommunications department to even ask Ellis.

When you bring him into your office to see the bouquet, he whistles and looks completely stumped. "Yeah, not me, kid. This is WAY too fancy for my blood. And way more money than I'd ever spend on you—"

"Oh, gee, thanks," you snipe irreverently and shove his shoulder platonically. "Well Javier said they're not from him, and I can't think of anyone else who'd go through the trouble, especially to have them delivered here, with all the security—"

"Hmm, what if it was someone inside the building?" Ellis poses, crossing his arms as he leans forward to sniff the bouquet as he posits, "Sure, most know the gossip about you and Jav from back at the embassy, but no one is sure if you're both still an item here. Maybe someone's trying to be a prospective suitor? And the bouquet is their first move at stating their intentions to court you?"

"Oh my god, what is this, some romance novel mystery? They didn't leave a note! And what – they expect me to go around the building asking who sent me the flowers?" is your harangue, hands on your hips as you tap your foot. "Plus, this is a really expensive arrangement—"

"Shit. What if it's Bozzi?" Ellis suggests, giving you a tense grimace when you look at him like he's nuts. "Hey, that dude has a thing for you. I know you never think so, but you gotta trust my powers of perception about this kind of thing—"

"Well, you didn't perceive that Javier was into me, so I'd say your powers aren't always accurate," you counter glibly, snickering when he pouts and rolls his eyes. "Ok, it's a moot point anyway. I was just curious," is your aside as you walk over to pick up the vase from your desk.

When you don't put it over by your sideboard and instead turn towards your office door, Ellis rushes to grab the heavy arrangement from you as he asks, "Wait, what're you gonna do with it?"

"Since it's not a gift from Javier, then it's not something I need to keep in my space. I'll just put it out in the waiting area—"

"I mean, if you're not gonna keep it and take it home, it'd be a shame to let it go to waste," Ellis offers in a suggestive singsong, eyes rounding when you give him an inquisitive look.

Understanding his unspoken meaning, you chuckle and pat him on the shoulder. "Yes, you can have it. Just do not tell Anita they're a regift!"

"Got it! Thanks, girlie," he beams before chortling, "This'll save me the cash and hassle of having to rush to a flower shop later—"

"You're such a cheapskate!" you heckle while he smugly marches away with his prize. "At least tell me you're taking her out to dinner tonight!"

"I am! Now you quit worrying and enjoy your own night with loverboy."

You're still snickering to yourself at Ellis' antics as you arrive at your apartment a short while later, but by the time you get inside, you are on a mission to shower and get dolled up for the special occasion. So, you put your purse on the counter so you can quickly move your wallet and phone from it once you've grabbed your clutch from the closet. But before you sprint off, you look at the answering machine on the console table by the front door, and notice there's a new message recorded.

Worried it might be Javi canceling, you rush over to press the 'Play' button, already chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously. But once the machine recites its automated message of when the voicemail was received, all you hear is ambient static, as if the caller is deliberating what to say, before the line clicks. Perplexed, you rewind the tape to have it replay when the caller's message was received.

'—Received at 5:45pm—'

The voicemail of static plays once again, and you strain to hear anything on the caller's line that could clue you into whether it's some kind of telemarketer, or perhaps a dropped long-distance caller? You can't pick up anything, though, so you dismiss it, not recalling the previous dead air, voiceless message left on the machine a couple of weeks prior. Instead, you're already stripping out of your work blouse as you turn from the console and resume your sprint to your bathroom to get in the shower first thing.

As you do so, Javier is giving Steve directions to the restaurant over the phone while he comes out of the flower shop with his order and hustles over to his car in the drizzling rain. "—Yeah, I'm going to my place to shower and get ready now, so I'll see you two there."

Once he's secured the flowers in the front seat, he drives home, eager to get ready and rush over to see you. After he showers, shaves, and finishes getting dressed in a nice crisp dress shirt, the dark sports coat you love, and a pair of black trouser pants, he takes the time to brush his hair before grabbing an overnight bag and quickly packing clothes, along with his travel toiletries. He'd arranged to drive himself for the next couple of days, so he planned to spend the night at your place after dinner, and go to work straight from there in the morning.

He's buzzing with anticipation as he drives to your condo through the light drizzling rain, intent to make it a memorable, romantic night for you. Once he's pulled up to your street, he easily cruises down to turn into your gated driveway and punches in the security code to gain access to the carport. The giddy excitement bubbles in his gut as he parks, gets the roses, and heads up to your apartment's floor, so much so that he has to shake out his right hand of the fidgety energy that has his fingers twitching at his side while he rides up in the elevator. By the time he gets to your door, he can't help feel like he's a jittery teen, going on his first date – smitten and over the moon with the potential of having someone feel as infatuated for him as he does right now for you.

With his patented three swift knocks on your door, Javi internally admonishes himself. Quit thinkin' ahead on shit and just focus on enjoying the night—

The door opens to reveal you in the low-lit glow of the nearest lamp sat on the console out of sight, but really, Javi's eyes aren't on anything else but you as you beamingly smile at him.

"Happy Valentine's Day," you chime delightedly and give him a spritely once over – admiring how handsome he looks in the smoky-gray sports coat, and loving that he's in his favorite black boots – before complimenting, "Mi Valentín tan guapo."

Javi's utterly enamored by the vision of sultry-yet-timeless beauty you are in the elegantly bejeweled pink tourmaline dress you'd worn on your first date when he'd returned to Bogotá, a pair of peep-toed nude patent leather heels, hair styled in a chic up-do with several flirty wisps framing your face in undulating waves, and your sunburst-styled earrings that twinkle at him as you lean close to kiss him hello on his soft lips.

Your perfume has his blood zinging through him, and it takes all his willpower to not just sweep you up and ravish you like he's aching to. Instead, he brushes his nose against yours with a hum before pulling back to caress your cheek, murmuring, "You look stunning, Celina," smiling when you affectionately nuzzle his palm and scoff breathily at his praise. It's then he remembers the flowers he's holding, so he presents them to you as he husks, "These are for you, querida. I know they're probably not as impressive compared to whatever you got at your office—"

Taking the bouquet of enchanting red roses and pink lilies that has the stems bound together by a white satin ribbon, you hug them close and breathe in their lovely scent before sighing contently and assuring avidly, "Javier, these are beautiful." Girlishly kissing him adoringly before dotingly murmuring against his lips, "Thank you," you then hurry to fetch a vase as you exclaim, "Let me get them in water before we go!"

He's besotted by your happiness as you lovingly fill a clear glass vase in the kitchen sink before unwrapping the ribbon and placing the gorgeous flowers in it.

You place the vase prominently on the bar top counter before quickly retrieving your clutch purse and keys to join him at the door.

"Ok, ready to go?" you're asking melodiously as you do a quick check in your purse to make sure you have everything, and end up smiling when he pulls you close after you close the door, making you melt by kissing the spot just under your jaw before you can key the lock shut.

He easily takes the keys from your hand, locks the deadbolt, and then slips them into his pocket before he seamlessly herds you close so he can loop his arm around your waist and escort you down to the car.

"More than ready, corazón," is his musing croon.

All you can do to not let your lust turn you into a tingling and shivering mess as your excitement simmers in you while you let him lead the way, is to affectionately tell him the itinerary for the night, and soon you're both exiting the car and huddling under your bright coral umbrella to cross the avenue towards the ritzy building housing the trendy restaurant.

His cologne clings to his collar, softening the naturally spicy, masculine warmth of his skin. You're having to chastise yourself about not giving into the impulse of nuzzling his neck in public while you both stick close together and weave through the crowd of patrons waiting in the foyer in order to get to the hostess stand and check in.

The space has an elegant, candlelit ambience apropos for the special occasion, decorated tastefully in romantic shades of red, gold and ivory, and bustling with parties of patrons who're partaking in drinks and gourmet dishes. That, combined with a killer view of the beach from one side and the glimmering city lights on the other? It's obvious to Javier why this place is a hot-ticket spot.

"Ah, is that them?" you query and gesture over at the crowded entry.

He turns and sees that Steve and Connie indeed have just entered and are weaving their way through the crowd of waiting patrons. Raising his hand to wave and get the other couple's attention, Javi conspiratorially mutters to you, "This'll be the first time I bring a girl around to the gringos, so don't let them pressure you into telling all our business—"

You snicker and playfully swat his bicep. "Oh, so I shouldn't mention the time we did that roleplay? How I was inspired by Agent Murphy and I channeled him when I pretended to be your naughty partner—?" is your mischievous drawl that you let trail off when he looks down at you with mild mortification flashing across his stony features.

"Unless you want me to crawl under the table and die from shame? No, you can definitely leave that one out of any conversation, atrevida," Javi growls huskily in your ear, and you grin.

Affectionately pinching his side, you scoff and razz, "I know how much of a prude you are in mixed company, chulito, so no worries. I was only teasing anyway."

He gives you a gruff chuckle and shakes his head, but has no chance to counter when Steve and Connie make it over to you both now. Steve's in a dark blue suit with a nice blue-and-black-striped polo underneath the blazer, while Connie wore a pretty champagne-colored dress, with her blonde locks down behind her bare shoulders.

You all greet each other warmly, the fellas shaking hands while you and Connie kiss them on their cheeks before Javier jokes as introduction, "—This is Steve's much better half, Connie," before the blond scoffs and shakes his head.

"And this, is Javi's one true love, Celina," Steve can't help lob sardonically right back, which has Javier pointedly setting his jaw askew as he flippantly glowers at his buddy's smug, grinning face.

You and Connie pay their frat-like hazing of each other no mind as you exchange a quick hug and peck on the cheek alike.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" Connie chimes with genuine joviality.

"I know, I can't believe it's taken this long! I feel like I already know you," you quip before adding conspiratorially, "I think these two have secretly kept us apart—"

"Now, what reason would we have for doing such a thing?" Steve cuts in with a blameless hum as he puts his arm around Connie's shoulders and tries to look as innocent as his tone.

Javier puts his hand around your waist and just shakes his head while you snicker up at him after he laconically wisecracks, "As if we could ever manage something like that, with Captain Obvious here?"

The hostess soon calls your name and you're all able to be escorted to your north-facing table, with the lovely view of the coastline lit up by the nightlife beyond. Before long, you're all enjoying your wine and appetizers while you chat like the oldest friends.

Sat at your left, you steal glances at Javi while Connie sits to your right and regales you with a story about the first time he'd made her laugh – after the 'Puff incident.'

"—I was so depressed that morning, and when he came up to get Steve to go to the embassy, he gave me this nice bottle of wine, and said, 'I'm sorry about Puff. Today, we're gonna sweat the guys who dimed him out and make 'em pay,' and he took my hand and gave me such a look, I just, it made me crack up," she tells you, snickering as she fondly adds, "And then they came home that night, and we had dinner, broke open the wine, and they told me how they interrogated the assholes, and it made me feel better."

You're delighted by the story, giggling along while you chirp, "Was it the big, round, puppy eyed look?"

"Yes!" she exclaims and giggles with you, all to Javi's modest chagrin and Steve's enjoyment.

By the time you're all on your main courses, the conversation has shifted to you telling Connie funny anecdotes starring Steve. Javier is smirking triumphantly while his buddy takes his turn in the proverbial hot seat as you tell Connie about the time Steve had arrived like a bat out of hell to chastise Javier, and ended up referring to you as one of his 'working girls' in front of you and Carrillo. He proudly watches as you retell word-for-word the exchange, without an ounce of sheepishness, and then smile goofily when Steve nods guiltily over at Connie when she gapes at him.

"—I felt really bad afterwards! After all, with this one's track record, how would he have known?" you're saying now and gesturing irreverently at Javier, who's smirk falters into a pout.

"Still! He should've known better than to say something like that in front of people," Connie tuts in a faux-admonishing tone before scrunching her nose comically at Steve. "Always putting your foot in your mouth—"

"And ya'll wonder why we took our sweet time putting the two of you together," Steve can't help drawl in a raspy twang and sarcastically look over at Javi who grunts a gravelly sound of agreement as he twists his lips in feigned displeasure.

Laughing, you and Connie amusingly jeer them before you then regale her with the story of how you'd recruited Steve to smuggle you into the CNP headquarters so you could surprise Javi for his birthday. You take special glee when describing how Javier had reacted when he'd come into the dorm room and discovered you waiting for him, dressed in a CNP clerical uniform.

"—His face was priceless! I wish I could've gotten a picture," you're saying teasingly as you pat Javi's hand when he blows a raspberry contrarily at your assessment. "What? It was—"

"I still get a rush of panic whenever I think about it!" Javi complains, but his lopsided smile betrays him. "Constant adrenaline rush with this one."

You snicker and playfully squeeze his hand, smitten with how he lovingly clasps yours. So much so, you don't even bat an eye when he pulls you in for a quick kiss.

The affectionate display is organic, but no less meaningful to the other couple, who have never seen Javier so enamored, let alone so outwardly demonstrative with his romantic feelings.

When you and Connie both excuse yourselves to go to the ladies' room a short while later, Javier takes a long pull from his glass of wine as Steve leans over and muses, "I reckon they're going to be thick as thieves now, so I hope there aren't any secrets left between you? I'd hate for Connie to accidentally blurt something out—"

Scoffing amusedly, Javi shakes his head and licks his lips before answering, "Not a one. Things are different this time."

"You sure? It wasn't too long ago that you were worried," Steve hints, and at Javi cocking a brow at him, he elaborates, "C'mon, you didn't know if she'd kick you in the dick, or just call you a bastard and run away—"

"Well, she settled for slapping the shit out of me, cursing me out, and storming off, instead," Javi cuts in acerbically, and shrugs when Steve gives him an incredulous look. "Then, she showed up at my door later that night, apologized, and we talked it out. I made it clear why I came down here, she told me she thought I'd abandoned her – that she'd tried getting ahold of you, and when that didn't pan out?"

They exchange a look, and realization hits.

All the pieces of the story fall into place, and Steve hums and takes a sip of his wine before remarking, "Well, shit…bet the makeup sex was off the fuckin' charts."

Snorting, Javi has no compunction to be elusive, so he leans back in his chair and rubs at his chin as he retorts matter-of-factly, "It sure as hell was."

Returning from the ladies' room not soon after, you and Connie are arm-in-arm as you amiably chatter, and by the time you both slip back into your seats, you're already finalizing plans to hang out this weekend.

"—Usually we just walk around and window shop while Anita pushes the baby in the stroller, so bring the kids! There are cute little areas for Olivia to play throughout the mall, and there's a 'Kid's Escape' upstairs near the food court," you're telling her as you slip your napkin back onto your lap.

"Oh, that sounds great!" Connie beams before jovially inviting, "You two should come over for dinner sometime this week."

Smiling over at Javi, you beam, "We'd love to."

Connie is already planning out loud the dinner, and when you agree and promise to bring over a nice wine to go with it, Javi glances coolly over at Steve's delighted smirk.

Then Connie puts Javier on the spot when she bossily looks over at him before stating, "I'm so annoyed at you for keeping her a secret for so long!"

He lulls his head back and groans, earning a chuckle from you at his expense.

Dessert arrives a short while later, and whilst you each partake in the rich, decadent treat the waiter had set in the center of the table for the four of you to share, you notice a well-dressed photographer working his way through the dining section as he offers to snap photos for each table he stops at, so you look over to Javi and see he'd followed your gaze and spotted the man coming your way.

It made heat pool in his chest – seeing you preen to get in together for the snapshot, eagerly reaching for him to sidle close.

You all pose for the photo, and in a flash, it's taken to memorialize the wonderful evening. When you dreamily glance at Javi, your heart throbs at how he smiles at you, and it takes all of your control not to just pull him into the passionate kiss you're now yearning to ensnare him in – gratuitous public displays be damned.

He leans in and whispers into your ear, "I'm dying to kiss you."

Squeezing his thigh under the table, you bite your lip and give him a look that makes your unspoken retort clear: 'So am I.'

By the time dessert is partaken in, the fellas eye each other knowingly before asking for the check, and since both know it'll be futile to argue, they just compromise by placing both their cards down. You and Connie are gloatingly told to polish off the rest of the bottle of wine while you wait, so you do so over entertaining talk of work.

"—I love my ASAC. Super competent guy," Steve is remarking, then snickers when Javi makes a noncommittal grunt in response. "You could just fire him—"

"Fire who?" you inquire, surprised, since you and Javi haven't delved into your work routines in depth since he'd assumed his role.

"Ryan Segarra. He's my ASAC," Javi replies on an exhale before dismissively waving the topic off. "Aside from him, everyone on the team here is great. I can't complain."

"Gonna let the guy hang himself, huh," Steve chuckles, earning a wry swat to the bicep from Connie.

"The way he's going, that shouldn't be long," Javier deadpans, and at your brows arching, he shrugs and quips, "I told you once before: I make for a shitty boss—"

You reach out to take his hand and give it a fortifying squeeze. "That's not true," you tell him with genuine tenderness, before you imperiously add, "And I've told you, I won't abide that kind of talk, chulito."

Javi's dark brown eyes crinkle at the edges as a smile ghosts his lips before he mutters, "Not in front of the gringos, querida."

Connie and Steve humorously jeer him while you theatrically roll your eyes and give his shoulder an impish nudge before humming a silly sound.

Once the bill is settled and the waiter returns with the two copies of the group photograph, you all make your way out to the foyer and through the crowd to the exit.

Admiring your copies of the picture to make sure they're perfect, you and Connie take the time to exchange contact info while Steve and Javi hold the umbrellas over you both so you don't get too wet from the drizzling rain.

"What's with the florescent orange umbrella?" Steve razzes while holding his plain black one whilst Connie finishes arranging everything back into her purse.

"It's mine, but I let him borrow it," you answer for Javi, smirking when he seems relieved to not have to quip an excuse. "I think it brings out the warmth in his eyes," is your elegantly chimed drawl as you slink against him and unabashedly purse your lips at Javi's droll stare.

"Alright, time to take this one home before she gets any more brazen," Javi jokes.

After you all exchange hugs goodbye and wish each other a good night, Javi escorts you back to the car, strategically helping you avoid puddles and potholes along the way. And after he's rounded to the driver's side once you're nice and secure in your seat, you sit patiently while he shuts the umbrella, shakes it free of excess droplets, and shuts his door. He looks over to see you waiting, as if you're going to say something, but you instead grab his coat lapel to tug him close so you can kiss him with all the simmering yearning you've burned with all evening.

His hand cups your cheek when he deepens the kiss with a gravelly hum, and you instinctually caress yours up from his chest to snake into the back of his hair.

Before the kiss can get torrid, though, Javi pulls away and sighs.

With a molten glint in his dark eyes, he croons, "You, behave and let me drive us home before you start seducing me—"

You scoff and flirtatiously nudge him back into his seat as you flop back into your own. "Mira quien habla," is your deriding chuckle, squinting your eyes mirthfully at him as you pristinely fold your hands over your clutch sat in your lap and tut, "Well then? Hop to it, my dear Valentine, you."

He laughs and shakes his head sardonically at you as he puts the key in the ignition and puts his seatbelt on.

Soon, he's ferried you both out of the nightlife district and towards your side of town.

As he drives down the main avenue towards your building, you happily gaze at him before gushing, "That was so much fun. I had a wonderful time. I love Connie. You and Steve are such dopes for not letting us meet up sooner!"

"I distinctly remember a certain chingona who wouldn't let me tell anyone about her, let alone bring her over to my partner's place for dinner," Javier can't help mock in a rugged baritone before shooting a glib glance your way. When you purse your lips to thwart the sly smile threatening to crest your features, he charms, "I think we won't have any issue making up for lost time, though."

You agree, "Most definitely. Be prepared, because I see a lot of hanging out and dinner dates in the future with the Murphys! And, I'm totally going to make her and Anita friends, so you and Steve will need to play with Ellis and not exclude him from guy time—"

He's pulling into the driveway of the condo building and lowering his window to punch in the code for the security when he chortles, "'Guy time'?"

"Yes!" is your congenial chirp, smiling when he hums and purses his lips.

"Rose is a good guy, so that's fine by me," he tells you as he drives down the carport to park in your visitor's spot.

You're eagerly buzzing with anticipation as you get out of the car and see Javi grab a duffle bag from the back seat and hangs it on his shoulder before he rounds to take your hand and escort you up into the building.

"So, early day tomorrow?" you query as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators. You wave at the night clerk as you pass his desk, then affably tell Javi, "Don't worry, I'm only asking so I know to set the alarm. Not because I plan on dragging you out for a morning jog."

He lets out an amused huff as he presses the button to the elevator, then tows you in when the door slides immediately open. "I do have an early conference call, but if you're going for a run before work, I'm definitely tagging along," he's drawling as you press the button for your floor and steer him to sidle close when you lean into the wall so you can grin cheekily at him.

"Ok, but I gotta warn you: My usual jogging route is gonna get you winded," you teasingly singsong, loving how he cups the small of your back and gives you a silly, mocking scrunch of his nose that curls his mustachioed top lip. "I'm serious—"

"Jogging is not the same as running – which is what I've been doing, and gotten in great shape from, if I do say so myself," he smugly rumbles and pinches your waist playfully when the elevator arrives at your floor.

You hum teasingly and take his hand to bossily tow him along to lope to your door. "Yes, but that can't be sustained for prolonged periods or across varying terrain," you chuckle and squeeze his hand while he reaches into his other pocket for your apartment key.

Swiftly slipping it into the lock, he opens the door for you and affectionately caresses his palm along your lower back as he guides you in over the threshold. "Guess we'll just see," he draws out in his imitation of your lilting drawl.

You both are charged with desire, and know the idle chatter is to prolong the excitement by building up the anticipation, but Javi is already dying to break when he locks the deadbolt behind himself and tosses your keys onto the console by the door. Especially when you take your time admiring the bouquet after you set your clutch aside on the kitchen counter after turning on the hall light.

"Tell me you have a pair of skimpy running shorts along with your sneakers in that bag?" you can't help purring and shooting him a sultry glance over your shoulder as you strut down the hall towards your bedroom.

You hear his footfalls following you, and the excitement tingles in the seat of your core as you enter your bedroom, turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and head to the dresser so you can take your earrings off and place them in your jewelry box.

You've just shut the box and started letting your hair down from the clasp when he shuts the light in the hall off, tosses his duffle down in front of the wicker chair, then strolls up behind you to encircle your waist and nuzzle the back of your neck.

You smile at him in the mirror when he counters roguishly, "Do you wear skimpy running shorts for your little jogs?"

"Not skimpy, but they're stretchy and tight – little bike shorts that keep everything cinched in," you answer simply, trying to keep from melting against him as his hands caress your hourglass shape while he trails his lips languidly down the column of your neck.

Glancing at you from below his lashes, Javi skims an open mouth kiss back up your neck so he can murmur in your ear, "I just realized. I went the whole day, and haven't told you I love you yet."

You feel butterflies in your womb and a warm flourish of joy fill your chest at his words. So, you turn in his arms and sigh before silkily humming, "Ah, already taking me for granted, hm?" while you frame his face in your hands and lovingly smile at him.

His eyes soften on you as he grunts in disagreement before husking, "Mi amor—"

"I know you do, Javi. You don't have to say it all the time," you cut in serenely and caress your touch over his features, fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead as you whisper, "You know that I love you, right?"

He nods and closes his eyes when your fingertips brush over his brow and forehead while your other hand smooths the hair at the back of his nape. "I do," he exhales contently as your touch continues to soothe over his temple, then glides down to his cheek.

"Good," you murmur breathily before lilting, "So then, you'll let me give you a Valentine treat?"

Dark eyes opening to focus on your tempting smile, Javi mumbles, "You're all the treat I need."

You hum and steer him backwards as you slip your hands under his jacket and slowly work them up to ease it off from his shoulders. "Well, good thing that the treat I have in mind, involves me," you chime as you guide his coat down his arms and fling it to the wicker chair, then turn to present your back to him, before requesting, "Help me out of this dress?"

The sexy look you shoot over your shoulder at him holds an unspoken promise that has his pulse racing and heat rising under his skin, so he cups your hip as he eagerly eases the zipper down before you slip the straps off your arms and let Javi guide the dress down so you can step out of it. He drapes it unseeingly over the armrest of the wicker chair while he stares hungrily at your form.

Arousal tangles into a tight coil at his center that has desire throbbing down into his loins at you having had nothing on underneath the dress, except for the red lace thong panties that always drive him wild. Combined with the seductive way you toss your hair out to cascade down your shoulders so that your bare breasts aren't draped by your luscious locks? It's all enough to have his urge sparking up into a positively primal frenzy.

Slowly, you step out of your heels and slide them aside before turning to slink up against him now so you can provocatively strip him slowly of his clothes.

Javi lets you, titillated by the worshipful way you undo each button, working his dress shirt off, then move on to unbuckle his belt, unfasten his trousers, and kneel to remove his boots for him before you strip him of everything and lean back to gaze up at his chiseled, nude form before you. His muscles are tense with anticipation, and the tendons in his thighs flex when you glide your hands up his legs before you nuzzle his hip.

Heat singes across his cheeks at how you look up at him with possessive allure in your scintillating eyes just as you wrap your hand around his throbbing shaft and lick the head of his cock.

You savor the salt on his skin, relishing the breathy way he groans and shivers at your oral havoc as you suck and toy your tongue over his sensitive tip. Seeing his fists remaining clenched at his sides turns you on even more – emboldening you, because it speaks volumes for how much self-control he's exerting in order to let you have your way. You can practically feel the way he's yearning to dominate you – to possess your pleasure by giving it to you with the ardor he's been smoldering with all day. It makes desire burn like a beacon in you to know how much he wants it, coupled with the pride of knowing he loves when you initiate and delight in the control.

It truly is taking everything he's got to not buckle under the urge to take over and dominate you.

But the sinful heaven of your mouth, and the luscious way you worship his throbbing cock is too decadent for him to go without. Not when you look so glorious in dominating him while on your knees, and finally take the length of him into your mouth and moan around it.

You take him as far as his shaft can go, and at the flutter of your gag reflex in the back of your mouth, Javi's hand instinctively cups your shoulder before his fingers card into your hair and tangle there. "Holy fuck, querida," he gravels out and tenses when you hollow out your cheeks around him, encouraging him to not withhold his pleasure. His eyes roll back when you move your other hand from his hip to instead cup his warm sac just as you stroke and suck him hard, causing his voice to crack as he hitches hoarsely, "Jesus fucking Christ—M'gonna come, b-baby—"

You take that moment to take him as far as he can go once more, and the tremor at the back of your throat as you swallow has Javi's fingers trembling as he grabs your shoulder and moans out in his raucous climax. He swears in mindless bliss as his cum fills your mouth and you prolong his pleasure with gusto – hands caressing around to hold him close by his hips while you indulge in the high of making him yours, while on your knees.

The minute his lusted-out haze fizzles enough to realize his hands are buried in the back of your hair while you're regaining your breath with your head resting against his abs as you keep you both stood in place, he passionately hauls you up and tosses you onto the bed before making short work of yanking your delectable red lace panties off to join the rest of his clothes.

You let out an airy gasp as you rush to settle farther up on the bed and Javier thwarts you by braceleting your ankle and yanking to glide you back down so he can hoist your legs apart before he buries his head between your thighs.

"Oh, Ja-Javi!" you hiccup out as he parts your drenched folds with a lascivious lick of his tongue that has you arching like an electric charge tingled through your pulsing heat. And when he engulfs your thrumming clit with his full lips, you cry out and writhe, feeling much to wound up already to be able to hold out for long to his wickedly divine oral talents.

He can feel it in how your thighs clench and your pelvis rocks against the bed while you worry hard on your lower lip with your blunt teeth to keep from whining. He hates when you deny yourself in order to prolong things on his account, so, he possessively nuzzles into your inner thigh, suckling on your delicate skin there, then gives the spot a nippy bite.

You gasp out in surprise and let out a moan from the needy ache that settles into your pussy, whimpering, "Javi!" before he starts to soothe the bite with his tongue.

"Quit trying to deny yourself, and let me make you come, malcriada," he husks in a pitch like melted velvet as he stares up at you with an intense gleam in his dark-brewed eyes, before adding in a low growl, "Get on your hands and knees for me."

To say that your brain swears that you could spontaneously combust if you were a piece of kindling instead of a tingling, needy mess under his provocative stare wouldn't do justice to how roaring hot Javier has you after his command, let alone how desperately eager you are to do as he says.

You somehow muster the strength in your quaking limbs to fidget up and roll onto your tight tummy before hoisting yourself up on shaking joints – trembling in exhilarating anticipation.

Seeing you with your knees spread apart, eagerly waiting for him to give you what he knows you need, panting breathily as you arch your lower back and peer lustfully over your shoulder at him, is pure glory to Javi.

His body burns with primal accomplishment, and his cock is rock-hard all over again as he unabashedly bows to lick you from clit to ass.

The sound you let out has desire pulsing in his center, spurring him on to drive you over the precipice of incandescent pleasure as your toes curl and your hands wring in the bedding while desperate little mewls and cries fall from your mouth, frame quivering under the mounting rise of your climax. When it hits from the lascivious way Javi twirls his tongue – plunging into your fluttering sheath before gliding it to grind wantonly over your clit, you wail, "Javi!" in a reedy voice before dissolving into inarticulate mewls while your orgasm coats his ravenous mouth.

He groans in accomplishment before he replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can swipe your intoxicating taste from his moustache, mouth and chin with his hand before languidly kissing a path up to the nape of your neck.

"Mmm, good girl. Feel good?" he coos against your ear after you practically melt and flatten onto the bed in a tremulous heap.

"Dios mío, Javier," you exhale girlishly and bashfully bury your face in the bedding while shielding behind your folded hand. "I can't stop shaking," is your mumbled snicker when he smugly nudges his way between your folded hand and the bed so he can nuzzle you in a dominant show of approval. You shift to curl into him and whisper, "You know how wild you make me when you talk like that."

He hums, drawling in a canela-rich purr, "Makes me feel the same way when you get all mandona, too. I don't think I could ever pick between them—"

"We'll never have to, galán," you croon and toss your leg over his hip before clinging to him as you enthusiastically roll him onto his back so you can straddle his lap, then lilt, "Not when I love how good we are together," before you grope your hands up his chest to caress his warm, stubbly cheeks as you silkily murmur, "Now, I'm going to ride you, naughty boy."

Javi lights up under you at that, and plants his palms to your hips as you undulate your core over him until his ramrod cock is notched at your entrance and you rut down on it.

You both get swept up in the throes of passion as you set the pace while Javi fucks up into you, murmuring decadently sweet and sultry things to each other. Yearning to trigger the devastating rapture you both have only been able to find with one another.

The soft pitter-patter of the light drizzle outside is drowned out by the sounds of you and Javi making love, too swept up in the carnal ecstasy that had been stoked between you for too long.

When you each reach bliss one final time and fall onto the covers together in sated exhaustion, there is only tranquility as you lullingly brush dreamy kisses along each other's lips before you tuck against him and doze off. Spent, Javier lethargically reaches the nightstand to switch the lamp off, then tugs the covers over you both before he rests his head on the pillow and drifts off right after he noses into the top of your mussed hair, content and serene with you in his arms.

It's all you've both been looking forward to. The effortless gravitation between you only getting stronger and pulling you back into harmonious balance.

Neither of you anticipate the tribulations that're just around the corner, ready to try pulling you apart once again.

No, for now, the reflection of everything you want – of the previously deferred plans you'd once shared – is the only thing you're looking ahead to.

________________

Read Chapter 43: Still

Spanish-English Glossary:

Mi amor = My love

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Galán = Handsome gent

A bañarnos, mi cariñito = To bathe ourselves, my sweet little darling

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

No me mires así, mi amor = Don't look at me like that, my love

Mi tiernita = My tender little girl

Te presento mi jevo pronto = I'll introduce you to my boyfriend soon

Cafetera = Coffee kettle

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Tan controlador = So controlling (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

Provocadora = Provoker (female)

¡Que viva el amor y duren los encantos! Que el mundo se entere que nos amamos tanto, El amor es perfecto cuando se ama, Amor transparente más claro que el agua = Long live the love and the charms last! Let the world know that we love each other so much, Love is perfect when you love, Love transparent clearer than water

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Chingona = Mexican slang for bad ass woman

Tan cellos = So jealous (female)

Jodón = Pain in the ass

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Fresco = A guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Avena = Oatmeal

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Panadería = Bakery

Buen provecho = Bon appetit

Mofongo relleno de camarones = A caribbean delicacy made of fried plantains smashed into a dome and covered with shrimp, usually in a creole tomato-based stewed sauce

Gatita = Little kitten

Crees que siendo mi jevo = [You] think that being my boyfriend

Nena = Girl

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Cuídate = Take care

Las [h]Adas = The Fairies, but in this case it's a play on words, since all three girls' names end in 'A', aka "The A-das"; hadas are fairies

Mandona = Bossy lady

Caserío = Public housing; housing project

Tecatos = Puerto Rican slang for drug addicts, specifically heroin users; also used to refer to shiftless good-for-nothing people

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Puñeta = Puerto Rican slang for "Fucking"; very bad word; equivalent to "Fuck"

Cabrón = Asshole

Socio = Business partner

Ah pues bien, Señor Gatsby = Oh well fine, Mister Gatsby

Su jeva tiene estilo = Your girl has style

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darlińg

Mi Valentín tan guapo = My super handsome Valentine

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Dios mío, Javier = My god, Javier

The song referenced and translated above is "Amor Perfecto" by El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico. And the "roleplay" reference Celina made in this chapter that got Javi hot and bothered is from the drabble, Partners.

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[furious-rogue-stuff]

🚨Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1 is now live!🚨

Heat - Narcos Fan Fiction Series Chapter List

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here’s my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Series Summary: You don’t expect to be pulled into a heated gravitation with Agent Javier Peña, and the more you both try to navigate your lives around each other, the clearer it becomes that your feelings go beyond the torrid desires you both are able to ignite in each other. Will the heat of your passions win out against the tribulations that threaten to pull you apart?

Chapter 1: Nicknames | Chapter 2: Tempest | Chapter 3: Solterita | Chapter 4: Cagey | Chapter 5: Want - Part 1 | Chapter 6: Want - Part 2 | Chapter 7: Insecurities - Part 1 | Chapter 8: Insecurities - Part 2 | Chapter 9: Passion | Chapter 10: Peach | Chapter 11: Plans - Part 1 | Chapter 12: Plans - Part 2 | Chapter 13: Fury | Chapter 14: Lovers | Chapter 15: Déjà vu | Chapter 16: Corazón | Chapter 17: Punishment | Chapter 18: Risk | Chapter 19: Fallout | Chapter 20: Compromise | Chapter 21: Trust | Chapter 22: Alone | Chapter 23: Coffee | Chapter 24: Chemistry | Chapter 25: Heightened | Chapter 26: Art | Chapter 27: Hurt | Chapter 28: Safe | Chapter 29: Brazen | Chapter 30: Ballad - Part 1 | Chapter 31: Ballad - Part 2 | Chapter 32: Daze | Chapter 33: Amor | Chapter 34: Worthy | Chapter 35: Spoil | Chapter 36: Pésame | Chapter 37: Everything | Chapter 38: Enough | Chapter 39: Longing | Chapter 40: Hopes | Chapter 41: Enchantment | Chapter 42: Reflection | Chapter 43: Still | Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1 | Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2 | Chapter 46: TBD

Read at AO3

Drabbles/Prompts inspired by Heat:

I Want You | Hot Water |  Right and Wrong | Partners | Demanding

🧭Heat Floor-plans

🧭Heat OC Face Claims Lists:

Heat OC Face Claims: Work Mates

Heat OC Face Claims: Javi’s friends from Laredo

Heat OC Face Claims: Special People in Querida’s Life

🎶An awesome reader made a Heat playlist on Spotify!

🔊Heat - The Playlist

✨Rationale and background into the meaning of Querida’s name

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know~!

*Moodboard image was assembled from several sources and made by yours truly. The OFC’s outfit/appearance is to portray a vibe of who she is and while representing my head-canon, please feel free to conjure what you wish.

Taglist: 

@redsilentwolf28 | @just-here-for-the-moment | @mandosmistress | @sarahjkl82-blog | @knittingqueen13 | @mamacitapascal | @hylasposts | @hnt-escape | @eri16 | @gracie7209 | @casssiopeia | @athalien | @qwertymx | @rosiefridayrogersunday | @pascalesque | @maknimuk1 | @kirsteng42 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @littlemisspascal | @southotheborder | @rosegxoxo | @in-for-a-pennyx | @dolly-on-the-dotted-line | @harriedandharassed | @deadhumourist | @trickstersp8 | @pedropascalsx​ | @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine | @angstylittlepascal | @mrsparknuts

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 30

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5k

Masterlist

Genie gives you a sly smile when she sees your smirk when you sit back down on the couch.

Javier trails behind you, excusing himself to the kitchen to cook. You’re not sure what you’re doing. Honestly, you’re probably going to regret this. Fuck it. It felt too good to hold him. You tasted him, lips pressed to his neck. Touching someone you love,  what a dangerous game. You’ll stay here tonight, then you’ll make a decision on what the next week looks like. A personal test that will probably have Jayla yelling your ear off about how bad of an idea this was. 

 Still you watch him from the love seat that faces the doorway to the kitchen. Seeing him move in the kitchen with deft, wiping his brow, clenching his jaw and looking oh so tortured. Your legs crossed, preventing any silly ideas you might conjure up from the beers Genie kept feeding you. 

Everyone in the house seemed to be in good spirits. Even your mother who had been housing a glass of wine. Everyone was a bit tipsy by ten. The girls asleep atop coats on Chuchos bed down the hall. They’ll be woken from their slumber at midnight to ravage through the gifts under the tree. 

Javier comes in alas, two beers in hand and beelines straight toward the empty seat next to you. Settling down, legs spread, offering up a beer for you. Your cheeks redden at the gesture, feeling your brother's knowing gaze. “Thank you.” You whisper, nudging him. 

He doesn’t respond and just shifts to get more comfortable. Settling into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with knees pressed against each other. He could give you space but he decided against it. The closeness sends a shock to your core and you wish to forget it. He clears his throat and looks ahead at his father who also had a knowing smile at the interaction.

“It’s great to finally have both of you home.” Chucho nods. “Through all the ups and downs I’m just happy to see the four of you— Frankie, Genevieve, Andrea and Javi still friends. Just glad you guys are over your marijuana phase.”

The room erupts in laughter, you put your hands up in defense. “I never! Never smoked in here.”

Frankie cackled, “Yeah because Javi never let you, he was all— she’s too young for that shit.” The living room swirled with another round  of laughs at the spot on impression of Javier. 

“Wait… you guys smoked pot?” Your mother asked, eyes wide. Devoid of anger, just shock. The four of you grinned. 

“It was the seventies.” Genie comments, cringing and bringing her water to her lips. She had been the only one of us completely sober. Your mind began to wander. James shook his head.

“Listen, they smoked pot and look how well off they all are. Beautiful family and two thriving salons. School teacher in New York City. And an American hero.” He butts in. Everyone in the room nods, your brother and his wife leaning into each other with smiles. Your eyes fall to your lap and slowly ride up from Javi’s knee to his face. A frown taut on his lips. 

“Don’t look so down Javi. What are your next steps now that you’re here?” Your mom slurs, gesturing for him to speak. Her gold bangles sounded like sleigh bells from hell. You suck your teeth, feeling him tense up next to you. An American Hero. It strokes something in him and you feel him closing in on himself beside you. 

“Uh- I just-I haven’t”

“Mami, he just got home today.” 

She waved a hand for you to scratch. “Ay nena, I’m talking to Javier here.” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, seeing him struggle to adjust to all this attention. He must have spent a lot of time talking about anything but himself. It would be a lot for anyone. To come home after three traumatic years to pestering questions from drunk elders. You see his eyes, nervous and unlike himself. You resist the urge to place your hand on his knee. He glances at your eyes then down at your lips swiftly before focusing on your mother again. Your brain short circuits at that, severely confused by his decision to fuck up your plan to keep your panties on tonight. 

 “Uhm-ehem.” He clears his throat. “I’m going to take it slow. Hopefully find someone, start a family. All in due time I suppose.” He chuckles and your mother nods curtly. 

“Well…” And when your mother begins a statement this way you have to brace yourself for complete and utter nonsense. Shoot. “Lorrianne is still single only–”

“We do not speak the devil's name in this house.” Chucho cuts. And thank god he knew how to dial a room because still you all drunkenly laugh together. Your mother cackled, repeating that it was a joke. Some part of you feels like it’s not. 

Still you laugh anyway.

Your mother is too tipsy to question why she’s now riding home with your brother. So is your brother but Genie—she’s winking at you while she pulls out of the parking lot. And Don Chucho doesn’t seem to be bothered. He squeezes your shoulder while you sit at the kitchen table, watching Javier rinse off the dishes. 

Truthfully, you’re a bit more tipsy than you thought. There’s something about stepping out into that brisk December air that really hits you with the reality that you had been fed beers for the past five hours. 

“You heading to bed?” 

“Yes, happy you're home. Don’t do anything stupid.” He whispers the last part in your ear and kisses your cheek before exiting. “Merry Christmas!” He calls from the hallway, a bit slurred. 

The entire night had been filled with stolen glances and knees pressing against each other. Not a direct word shared but now you were alone in the kitchen. The tipsier you got, the hotter your cheeks grew. Staring at his back while the stream of the water he uses occupies the silence, you cross your legs. He clears his throat, like he’s waiting to see who breaks this game first.

 But honestly, all you could do is stare at the way the ripples of his back muscles and shoulder blades stretch his shirt. 

Christ, you think while sipping the cure to your state. Water.

Luckily the pressing questions died down into a session of nostalgic storytelling. You try not to be bothered by your mother not being able to recall one dear moment from your childhood. It seemed everyone had one about you except her. 

It made you think of the bee earrings that catch dust on your vanity. You are suddenly too sad to speak. 

He clears his throat and turns. Arms crossed, making his biceps bulge in his shirt. Fuck, he was sexier than before. And he’s looking at you that same way. Like it’s taking a lot from him to not just spread you open right there in the kitchen. Your stomach pits at the distant memory of your breasts rubbing against the kitchen counter while he fucked some sense into you. Pretty little wife. 

“I’m going to head out for a smoke. My clothes are unpacked yet, there should still be some old shirts in the drawers for you to change into.” 

His words are like a splash of cold water, he exits the kitchen and the front door follows. Your brain barely caught up with anything he said. You were faced with the reality once again. You were going to sleep in Javier’s bed, and you promised yourself it was going to be casual. 

Good god, why do I set such unrealistic expectations for myself?

You get up anyway, relieved that he’s allowing you privacy to change. You think if he was in the room while doing so you might’ve urged to just take it off himself. 

You expected there to be more sentiment when you walked into his room after so long. After the last time.

It was the last time you had sex. It was a memory you liked to not look back on. Your last time being spent with him comforting you after having a panic attack. It was when you told him that you never thought you’d have a healthy sex life. Yet it was so much more than that. You were overcome with the trauma of your first relationship and the blistering reality of being so in love, that you couldn’t bear to watch him leave. 

You’re back in that same spot, yet the room is empty, filled with boxes and suitcases. 

You feel nostalgia run down your throat with a swallow. But ultimately are left with yearning to make more revelations here. 

His bed was ruffled like he napped during the day and he had a suitcase open with clothing jumbled. You know he said to check his drawer but the smell of his cologne enticed you far too much to just throw on some old threadbare shirt that probably smells like a closet. 

You pick a green t-shirt. A favorite of his, you remember him wearing it at Xavier’s memorial day barbecue a few years back. With a sting at your knee, you bend down to grab it before striping yourself of your sweater dress. Stockings off and tossed on the floor. With just your panties and hardened nipples grazing the thin material, you climb onto his bed. Dazed and determined to not let your pussy get the best of you. 

The door creaked open and he came through. Hooded eyes blinking in disbelief. Maybe being perched on the bed with your thighs on display wasn’t the smartest. Perhaps shuffling under the covers would have been preferable to keeping his or your hands to yourself. He clears his throat and gives you a nod. 

“You still smoke.” You comment. You never liked it, far more research has been done and you hate for him to get himself sick over something so trivial. 

He clenches his jaw, eyes stuck on the curve of your breasts and nipples for a moment before he bends down to grab a pair of sleep pants from his suitcase. “Yes.” He turns, the unzipping of his pants makes you shift on your heels. Dropping his pants, the backs of his thighs and black boxers in your sight. Still, he respects your earlier requests of no funny business and he pulls on his new pants without a lingering second of sexual suggestion. 

Much to your dismay he keeps his shirt on. “It’s still really bad for you.” You whisper, changing your seating position— knees to your chest now, back against the headboard. Javier turns with a small smile on his face observing your things tossed on his floor. 

“Wanting things that are bad for you is healthy.” He murmurs, bending down with a soft groan. Folding his pants and placing them back in his suitcase. He looks up into your eyes, “So is wanting something that’s good for you. Makes us human.” He gets into bed with another grunt, old man. 

You nod, hands holding your knees. Feeling your wound throb. You bite back a wince. Javier’s eyes are on your knee the second he feels you next to him. Creased brow, he takes his big fingers around your wrist and reveals the injury to him. In an instant, he’s manhandling you, still delicate and considerate of your stinging knee. He moves your legs across his lap. “How’d you get this?” He thumbs the surrounding area, inside of your knee and you throb. More ways than one. 

“Fell in the subway.” 

He grumbles, stroking and soothing your skin. It’s so much contact in one moment. You’re overcome with the urge to cry and tell him that every time you’ve ever felt pain you wished he were there. Any tiny cut, any feeling hurt, you wished to come home to tell him about it and curse the world together. 

God bless you, you’re an honest drunk. 

“It was a brutal fall, ripped my stocking and bled all the way home. Then it was snowing so it was all dirty. You ever get hurt and realize you’re no better than a kid, like you just wish there were someone there to kiss it better. Or like wanting someone to rub and be like sana sana colita de rana.” You ramble, eyes on the way his hand covers your entire knee and the way his thumb works into your soft skin. You gaze trails back up to his face and his stunning side profile is what you’re met with. The arch of his nose, the thick hair above his pretty pout. You wanted to drag your lips across it all and claim him. 

His brow furrows, and you realize that may be its natural state. His free hand comes up and points at a tiny scar across the bridge of his nose. Eyes widening, you shove your face into his to get a view. Tip of your nose touching his cheek while you observe a new part of him. He chuckles. 

“I’ve been on scene for more raids than I can count. Usually it’s a shoot out.” Your chest tightens and you back your face away. “Dodging, frantic, whatever. But there was this one, where we had one of Escobar's sicarios cornered. Well I had him cornered. Really fucked up guy, got two pregnant women killed sort of fucked up. Anyway, I was tired, and angry. And I should have just detained him when I had the chance. But… I was the one who saw the bodies. I wanted to rough him up myself. And I did, but in the midst of it all he head butted me and—yeah. Cracked my nose. Had a small gash and was bleeding all the way down to my teeth.” His finger traces to his mustache.

 “Went back to my team, blood still pouring, drying on my mustache. In so much pain I could barely see. The adrenaline was so high so no one bothered to help me. I didn’t want to help me either, I just wanted to get the night done and over with. It was when I got home and dunked my face in cold water that I really wished I had someone there to take care of me.”

He frowns for a moment, not able to look you in the eyes. You both sit in silence and you digest it all. You knew—know, that your lives turned out very differently, you guess you haven’t even thought about how different. 

 Your frown isn’t momentary, your heart slows in your chest and you swear you don’t think. Maybe you can blame it on your drunkenness tomorrow. But you bring your pointer finger to the scar on his nose and he doesn’t flinch. The crease between his brow just flexes then smoothes out all together.

You rub the scar, and trail down the bump of his nose. You feel the slight crook that it must have left. You move again, grazing the tip, and landing on his mustache. The thing that used to brush against you, and at one point soaked his blood. His lip twitches when the tip of your nail brushes the soft skin of his cupid's bow. The pad of your finger presses against his lips and he cracks into a smile. One that’s more genuine than any he let out today. Maybe it’s because you’re both tipsy that he allows his eyes to crinkle and dimples to deepen. Your finger slipping and pressing to the cold surface of his teeth. 

You let your hand fall to his chest, “I wish I was there.” You admit in a whisper.

“I don’t.” His voice vibrates against your palm. 

You know what he means, and he knows you know what he means so he doesn’t rush to reassure you. You’re beyond need for that. “I know it was dangerous but I wish I was there to listen to you, wipe off your blood or whatever.” You whisper, doubling down. He huffs, he’s much more solid under your palm than he was a few years back. It must be tough work. You fight the urge to press your lips against the scar on his nose. 

“You would have been disgusted by the person I was there—the person I've become.” 

“No.” You mutter, you’ve already thought of all the horrible things he could have been doing and forgave him in your head years ago.

He shakes his head and grabs your wrist to move your hand onto your own lap. “I’ve killed people.”

“I know.”

“I fucked at least 2 hookers a week.”

He’s saying it like he wants you to run away or tell him he isn’t good enough, that he’s not the same person. Does he want you to snarl in his face and be angry? It seems like he must have forgotten the type of person you are. “Was it a different one each time?” You ask so maybe you cared more than you’d like to believe. 

“It was the same four women.” He burns a hole through the wall with his gaze. He couldn’t even look at you. 

“What were their names?”

He snaps to look at you, eyes roving around your face. Utter confusion between his brow. “Do you want me to hurt your feelings?”

“What did you think I was sitting with my legs crossed in New York City?” 

He quirks a brow for a moment, you see the smallest glimpse of jealousy in his eyes before he sits up right and smirks. “Julia, Camila, Daniela and Dulce.”

You nod, “I’m hooking up with my colleague.” 

He tightens his lips, “Alright.”

You chuckle dryly, tilting your head. “Does that bother you?”

Javier shrugs, “No but unlike you I rather not hear about my exes sexual whereabouts” 

Your eyes drop to your lap at that. Tiredness creeping in to protect you from the danger that is speaking to Javier so late in the night. You hated that, “I never thought we’d ever be exes.”

It's silent again, you can almost hear Chucho snoring down the hall. How is it Christmas already, how is he here? How, why the fuck are you in his bed. “I don't typically go into relationships thinking we’re going to be exes.”

“I never thought we’d even be together.” You whisper the confession. Sometimes, she creeps through, who you were ten years ago. Insecure and unsure of everything when the answers are right on display for you. Javier's body is much closer to you this time, sneaking his chin on your shoulder. Lips grazing your jaw. It sobers you up, you bring your hand to the back of his head. Cradling him, while he presses slow kisses to your jaw. Lips just as soft. Your eyes flutter shut, “This is such a bad idea.” 

“Why?” He gravels out. His adams apple rolling against your shoulder. 

“Because we’re going to end up fucking.”

His teeth grazes your neck, “Would that be so bad?” He slows down, nosing your chest, with hands coming to your waist. Like he’s ready to pull you into his lap at any moment. 

You don't want him to stop, the way he’s moving is all that you've craved for years. His shirt thin on your skin, he’s all opened mouth–inching toward your peaked nipples through the shirt. Threatening to mouth away at your breast. His large hands move from your waist, up, up to your breasts. Holding the weight of them, palms covering it all, he inspects it like it's his job. He looks up at you through his brows. Your mouth is open, unable to speak. “Huh Andrea?” He teases. A smirk twitching the edges of his mustache. 

Your mouth dry, you lick your lips and snap out of it. “We can’t kiss.”

He takes it as a go ahead, and it is. He kneads at your chest, palm grazing against your nipples and causing your legs to part. “Can I touch you like this?” It's husky and mocking, the way he’s already done it without asking. It's pathetic the way you’re allowing all of this to happen before you even have a serious conversation about everything that went down. You nod. 

“We can’t kiss–oh.” He lifts the shirt and attaches his wet mouth to your bare breasts. You moan, toes curling. “We can’t fuck.”

“I'm clean.” He mumbles against your breasts.

“Me too-that's not why–Javi…” Your breath catches in your throat when his free hand grabs a handful of your inner thigh. He’s like a starved man, you, a delicious meal out in front of him, prepared for devouring. Your hand comes to cover his. Moving with him while he moves up the inside of your thigh.

“Why not?” The both of you are staring at your hands conjoined, slipping dangerously close to the gusset of your panties. His eyes flick up to you but your mouth is agape and distracted by the closeness of him, about how he smells the same, how everything feels like before. Why is it so easy to fall back into him, why was it so hard to resist. 

Because it’s too much, I’ll tell you I love you again. I’ll never leave. I will never let you leave. His pointer finger grazes then slips in between your panties and your cunt. You were destined to fail your attempt at self preservation. “Just…” You lean back fully and you can feel him heat up beside you. “Just touch me, make me forget.” You whisper. Legs spreading he takes his place, on his knees in the space you’ve made. His hands make no hesitation, he grips at your simple cotton fabric and pulls them off swiftly. He stares, hands on your knees. Eyes hooded and his length hardening before your eyes. Licking his lips, his brows furrow. 

“Que quieres olvidar?” It comes out low, whispered and strained. He knows that this means more than just two horny exes rekindling for a night. He knows this comes with years of pain, and bliss and confusion. Slightly toxic, beautifully romantic. He knows this could never be just two people having casual sex, he ignores it anyway and so do you. 

You shut your eyes for a moment 

“Summer.” 

Is all you can think of. It answers everything. Javier’s jaw tightens, you watch the word take meaning in his brain and he nods. Good thing we have all other seasons, he thinks out loud, beyond a whisper. You know he’s your one and only. He leans forward and flips his green shirt up the slightest. He presses two wet kisses to your belly and whispers words unheard before inching his lips right where he’s needed most. His bottom lip ghosts over your clit and your stomach pits. He cuts through his breath with his hot and heavy tongue flicking you. “Mnm” It’s one touch and you're reduced to whimpers of jumbled letters. His pretty lips kissing and sucking at your bare cunt. 

“Still…” He grunts, before licking again from your pulsing hole up to your clit that's doing just the same. “Still taste so good.” His southern drawl that he loved to hide creeps up in moments like this. Moments when your face is flush and your chin is quivering from pleasure and agony. Your legs are spread wide and you feel your bruised and cut knee sting but your senses are overloaded so the pain is close to non-existence. You squirm and he murmurs, stay fucking still, before swinging your good leg over his shoulder and continue his feast. 

His hot mouth moves to your labia, sucking just to make noise, and back to your cunt that's weeping for him to just put a little bit of him in. But no Andrea-no. You're making such a mess of his face you feel slightly sheepish. His eyes are closed and he’s in his element between your legs. Chin quivering, you want to hold him, he’s reminding you that sex is fucked if its not with him. Your hands fly to the mess of hair on his head. Tugging and moving him, you sit up slightly. Finding him rutting his hips against the bed below him and you feel for him. Your hands slip from the back of his head down to his broad back, taking advantage of the width of him. The hand that found its place holding your thighs in place reaches to your sensitive knot of nerves. 

Thumbing you and your body drops back down on the bed. Desperate to scream and moan his name, your shaky hand grabs a pillow from next to you. You stuff your face, and weep against it. “Javi–I’m going to come– oh god please.”

His moan vibrates against your core and he drives. Sloppy and rushed, he rubs you out while his tongue fucks you. On the silent Christmas night you whimper against a bitten pillow while Javier makes out with your pussy. “You're so close baby– did this pretty little cunt miss me?”

“It did–no one compares–oh!” You shriek but it's muffled. He lets your other leg go and slips two fingers inside of your unexpecting cunt. He’s relentless, finger fucking you knuckle deep while his tongues makes its deft movements against and it was enough. You're gushing all over his hands, he moans at the sight, smiling at the way you writhe and hold the pillow against your made up face. Hips twitching while he coaxes you with kisses on your stomach. “Easy…” He holds your belly with the wet hand, settling your twitching form down. You always come this way when it's him, embarrassing to you when you come down, completely out of control of your body for a few seconds. You toss the pillow, white with black streaks of your mascara. 

He’s kissing you all over, lifting your shirt– his shirt, kissing your hip bone, kissing below your breasts, your neck, your jaw, your cheek, eyelids and the corner of your mouth. 

You lay side by side. Sweating and unsure what happens next. You let the sound of his ceiling fan play out for a moment.

“I thought about you every day.” He speaks and it's gravelly. “Sometimes I’d see something so horrible or embarrassing and think only Andrea would understand– only she would laugh with me.”

Chest rising with a stutter, you're on the verge of a sob. “I pay ten dollars a month for a Colombian newspaper subscription because they have a DEA column.” Suppose it was time to be honest. “Every time I saw a bee I thought of you.”

He chuckles next to you, “C’mere” He whispers and you move immediately. Finding your head on his chest and your arm snaked on his waist. His large palm covers the back of your head. You’re in heaven. Complete bliss. How have you been so strong without him? “I’m not taking time off, I was fired and paid to not expose the DEA.”

You nod against him, not entirely shocked. You never really liked the idea of Javi– Javi, who has so much good to offer- selling his soul to government agencies. It was a selfless thing he did for a selfish system. “I have birds.” You giggle, not having a great follow up. He laughs with you, your cheek vibrating. 

“What in the world are we doing?”

You have no fucking clue. But you think you understand him now, the way he wanted all of you before he left for Colombia. The way he seemed selfish to others to keep you wrapped around his finger when he had a flight booked. 

Now it's you leaving, you’ve got that flight, you’ve got a life elsewhere, yet you can't help but keep him while you can. 

“Being selfish. Or at least I am.” 

“No.” His response is quick and cutting. “You can do whatever you want to me. You can leave tomorrow and I’ll be satisfied that you gave me a chance again.”

Your brows furrow and you don’t like that at all. You hate to hear your own thoughts out of his lips. You don't scold him for being honest. “I leave two days after New Year's Day.” It's so dark in the room, still you look up at him when you say and you see his face unmoved. 

“Stay here… for the week I mean.” He's desperate, holding onto you. You want to kiss him. “Cancel your hotel, bring your things here. You know this is your home.” 

 “Okay.” You nod instead, “I will.”

“Good.” He smiles in the dark, his teeth illuminating the perfection that is his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good.” He says it to himself.

“Can we keep being honest?”

“Yes. I had a picture you taped to my desk.” 

“Must have scared all of your sexy female co-workers away.” You grin. 

“Sure did, doing your job from countries away.”

“Hm.” You catalog all that he has missed in your head, thinking what to tell him next. “Do you know Whitney Houston?”

“Eh.” 

“Well…the week after we broke up. When Lorraine was staying with you, I listened to ‘Saving All My Love For You’ and cried like every day.”

“Andrea…” He groans teasingly like you’re hurting him. “What was the song about?” 

You burn bright red, “Being the other woman…”

“Oh please.” He grunts, holding you tight against him. You almost forget you're completely bare from the waist down. “No seas tan ridícula” He mutters against your head while kissing you aggressively there. 

“Let's just sleep before I embarrass myself some more please!”

“Mmm good idea. I was close to telling about jerking off in a storage closet because someone smelled like you.”

Your mouth drops wide and you slap his chest, “Javi!” 

“All right I’ll save it for a less… holy day.”

Right, good ol’ JC’s B-day. 

“Fuck… I was making a mess of your bed on our lord's day.”

He shrugs. It’s so easy to just fall back into everything when it’s him. Like four years haven’t passed. 

“Well, consider it a Christmas gift.” 

You chuckle, “Well Merry fucking Christmas.”

 “Maybe I do know how to be your friend in the winter Andrea.”

It's a whisper, like a prayer.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 19

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.6k

a/n: Two more New Orleans chapters after this. Don't forget to visit my pinterest board "Running Like Water".

The section labeled "The Trip" has some reference's there. Enjoy lovies.

Masterlist

Abandon the thought. Forget it. A selfish, irresponsible and senseless idea, just like the thought of a family with you. Javi walked ahead of Felipe in silence after the foolish suggestion, hadn't he known Javier would have married you in an instant if the timing was right? If you weren't Frankie’s sister, if he wasn't leaving. He couldn't take you to Colombia, absolutely not. Wasn't safe, he almost told Felipe bringing Gina along wouldn't be a great idea either. But god did Javi’s stomach turn at the thought. Stirring with fear and yearning. He knew you'd never go along with a plan like that, you were fresh out of college figuring out your own career, how selfish would it be for him to expect that you would drop everything, family included, for his career ventures. 

Cheeks flush once the night air hits his face as he walks out to the rooftop pool, a bar lining its left side. Irresponsible idea.

Would you pick out the furniture? He’d let you.

Hands digging into his pocket and striking his lighter to smoke. He hears Felipe stopping, he must've found his fiance.

 He just called you his girlfriend for the first time today, it doesn't feel like enough. Juvenile, he knows he'd want you to be his wife, eventually. After Colombia, not everyone works out like Gina and Felipe.

You could teach in Colombia. You were so good with kids.

Relaxed when he sees you. Breath catches in his throat. Your back is facing him as you sit at the bar, drink in hand. Lean shoulders exposed, no, entire back exposed with a dip just below your back dimples. Those dimples, his thumb fit there perfectly when he’s driving into you from behind. Hair laying on one shoulder. 

An angel alone at the bar. His angel. Its sudden, instantaneous, all anxieties of his talk with Felipe fades at the sight of the soft slope of your nose then lips. 

Magenta shines from behind the bar lighting your smile, bright and wide as you nod to whoever is catching your attention. Your exposed back illuminated in a waving cerulean from the reflection of the pool lights. Pet Shop Boys ringing in his ears. You are the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on. Your brows screw in concern and your smile falls a bit, shoulders slouching. 

Javi’s mustache twitches at the change in mood as he walks across the poolside, toward you. His eyes dart to the man next to you, he has that look in his eyes. A lustful look. Javier’s stomach flips at that. A fiery and intense jealousy he thought he was immune to settling bone deep. He remembers attempting to swallow down that biting envy when he found out you had gotten a boyfriend while he was gone in Houston. But this is different, that was juvenile, you're his now. 

The second he reaches you he places his hand on your lower back, wedging himself in the space between you and the man. Your eyes go doe as you look up to Javi with relief. A smile growing on your glossy lips, Javi cranes his head to kiss you quick. “Hi baby.” You mutter against his lips and he feels the most primal he’s ever felt. All his, mine, mine. He kisses you again like you two had been apart for years. Your lips tasted fruity from whatever you had to drink tonight. He was always the one to call you all sorts of pet names so you calling him baby in public has him urging to pull you off this bar seat and drag you back to the hotel room. 

Fuck it, he kiss you again, “How much have you had to drink?” He asks with genuine curiosity devoid of judgment. You scrunch your nose, giving him a tipsy smile and Javi just chuckles, rubbing his hand on your back, cold. “You cold?” You shake your head a no, Javi nearly melts at how perfect you look tonight. He was forever indebted to whoever made this dress.

From his left the man he long forgotten about clears his throat. Javier’s entire demeanor changes in an instant, you spin in your stool to face the man. “Javi–this is… Drew, he works at LSU, anthropology professor.” You beam, your own hand grabbing at Javi’s suit blazer, giving Drew a line of view. Javier lets you move him but he isn't fond of the man, he saw the way he looked at you. 

Drew’s face is slightly bemused, staring at you and back at Javier before he extends his hand. Javier takes it anyway, giving him a firm shake. “Nice to meet you–sorry I’m just a bit confused-”

“Jesus–I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be back.” You jump to your feet unsteadily, Javier catches your elbow to balance you on your heels. You let out a small snort of embarrassment. 

“I can come with.” Javi suggests and you frown, waving a drunken hand, no before walking on your own. Your hips swaying with your struts, lower back dangerously giving a sneak peak of whatever set you had under the dress. Javier watches your every move until you're entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you. 

Javi shakes his head, no more drinks for you. He sits in your stool, beckoning the bartender over. Whiskey, Jim Beam. Javi smiles at the man next to him before sipping. Drew seems to be itching to say something to him. His brows screwing, hands fidgeting with his beer during the awkward silence. Awkward to him, Javier was on quite the power trip knowing he was making whats-his-face intimidated. 

“Look man I mean no disrespect-”

“Good.” Javi cuts, his low tone causing Drew to frown further. 

“I just didn't assume she was with someone, she was just dancing with some girl all night and sat at this bar alone, you know looking like that.” 

Javi’s nostrils flare, he sips. He wasnt going to get rowdy, he really fucking badly wanted to get rowdy, but this was your trip. Your little vacation, god forbid Javier flips out on some guy for flirting with you. He’d be in jail for life if he loses his shit every time you get hit on. He chooses his battles. Still, he's up for a bit of verbal confrontation. “Looking like what?”

Javi takes in the looks of this man for the first time, his protective bone striking deeper, noticing the aging spots on the man's face. Hair thinning at its sides, age lines at his eyes. This man had to be at least fifty. Javier's chest rises like an animal prepared to assert dominance, he exhales settling himself. Eyes snapping to the bathroom door. 

Drew shakes his head, “Call me old fashioned but I would never let my women leave the house in something like, especially if I wasn't there.”

Call me old fashioned, I would just call you old.

Javier bites it back, his cheeks warming with anger but he controls himself, for you. “Good luck with hitting on young women in bars if you still believe women are things to be controlled.” Javi chuckles, his eyes find you swinging the door open, apologizing to the person waiting by it. A smile bright on your face as you dance your way towards the bar, lord you were drunk. Grabbing a martini from a waiter before stopping at the dance floor to dance by yourself. Hair swaying with your little hip movements. 

Drew watches you too and shakes his head again. Javi hopes it falls off next time. 

“Women these days, no home training and classless. Us men don't have to sit and take it. You seem too far gone though.” He sneers, eliciting an eye roll from Javier. Could the man be more cliche, an old geezer who he couldn't have the pretty young thing at the bar so he resorts to complaining about women as a whole. Javier met a few of these insecure men at the academy, that's when he knew maybe he didn't belong in that environment. A group of hormonal sexually repressed losers who power-tripped with a gun and badge. He thinks of the year he spent as a cop and sees a different person. He can't believe he thinks, thank God for the DEA. 

Javier sips his drink and watches you proudly. “Yeah I am far gone.” Not caring to give into the lowlife. The DJ transitions into Lucky Star by Madonna and you squeal with a jump, your martini spilling the slightest on the dance floor and your twirling to the synth beat. Javier wished he had his camcorder to film you losing yourself on the floor. It wasn't like you to be this out there in public, liquid courage was a real concept, Javier thinks. 

“She was flirting with me by the way.” Drew says it in a geeky matter of fact tone and Javier can't help but smile. You would never, not in a million years. Javier's jealousy only manifested in protectiveness, never has he ever feared you reciprocating any sort of attention you might receive. 

“Andrea!” Javi calls your name, beckoning you from the dance floor. You pause your dancing and grab a fistful of your dress to prevent yourself from tripping over the long fabric while you hurry over. Drew’s face drops slightly when you approach the two men. 

You let go of your dress and flick a piece of hair from your face, taking a sip from the martini. Hand on Javier's shoulder to stable yourself. Javier looks down to smile at his lap at your oblivion. “What?” You ask breathlessly, “It better be good, you know how I feel about Madonna.”

Javi glares down Drew’s face which is now devoid of color while his hand holds your bare back. Goosebumps rising against his palm when his fingertips trace the hem where the dress begins again. Javi drives, taking the opportunity to slide his hand right inside the front of your dress, holding your waist with his palm and his large fingers splaying across your pitted belly. His hand strained against the tight fabric. Javi knew he was protective of you, but this was nearly out of his character, holding you so shamelessly. “Drew was telling me you were flirting with him.”

Your smile drops slightly giving a tight browed look at the older man. “I was just being friendly.” 

Drew is floored, humiliated. “You asked me what I did for a living?”

Javier almost laughs at the desperation in the man’s voice. You scoff and Javier makes note to brace himself. You’ve been quite fiery today, first with Julian. Now that you’re a bit drunk Javier isn’t sure what to expect from you, regardless he’s a bit excited. Considering your sound of disbelief Javier knows he isn’t getting his hopes up. 

He takes a sip of his whiskey as he watches your eyes narrow. “And?” You bite.

Drew adjusts his suit jacket. “Typically when a woman alone at a bar asks a man what he does for a living, he's going to expect sex—“

“Uh-uh. Don’t try to paint this like I’m some lady of the night. You introduced yourself and I just asked what you did for work, small talk? Like how’s the weather?” You take a sip from your martini. 

The professor's nostrils flare his cheeks red. “ I offered you a drink—“

“Which I denied, I was trying to tell you I was waiting on my boyfriend and you cut me off to ask my age.” Your cheeks are blazing, maybe you were an angry drunk. Somehow it was the most fitting discovery Javier has made about you. 

“Alright, let’s just go back to the room.” Javi whispers into your side and you shoot him an angry glare. Removing his hand from your stomach, Javier is beyond turned on by that. What is it with him getting hard every time you reprimand him? 

“No—I’m not done talking.” Javier’s eyebrows shoot up and he bites back a smile before looking at the bartender, pointing to his cup beckoning him for a refill. 

Drew combs through his hair, “Listen woman, you come to bar half naked expect to be-“

Your jaw is agape. “Watch your fucking mouth.” Javier snaps, he’s unsure if he can just let you handle this and take the backseat anymore. The bartender grabs Javier’s drink and refills it. He wished he was in Laredo, he would’ve spun this losers jaw minutes ago. But you, you detach from Javier completely. 

“Listen—professor fuckface.” You wave a drunken finger in his face, “I don't know who you expect to fuck you but you better start aiming lower… actually how about you leave women alone in general–”

The man's face reddens and Javi decides he needs to prevent a real altercation. If the man lays a hand on you Javi can't promise he wont kill the man with his bare hands. Bad look for the DEA. “Alright it's time to go.” Javi stands and grabs your arm. You let out an annoyed huff, cursing out Javi now. 

“Maldito idiota! Javi I swear to god I did not flirt with that man!” You trip over your heels while he pulls you through the thickening crowd. Javier’s brows furrow, had you thought? “Even if I was single I have some standards!”

Javi laughs, pressing the elevator button. “I’m not upset with you baby.” He drops your arm and your glazed eyes soften, your lips cracking into a smile. Moving your hair out of your face from the distant wind on the rooftop.

You snake a hand around his waist when the elevator dings, the two of you walk in sync into the lift. “I just thought when you grabbed me to leave–”

“No-he was getting angry, I was just trying to avoid a real confrontation.” You frown, Javier lets you go to click the 4th floor button. Coming back to you, taking a wanton look at your figure in the dress. Your eyes are half lidded, he knows that look all too well. You take a step closer to him again, laying your hands flat on his jacket. Dusting off whatever you find on the leather. Getting on your tiptoes, he kisses you quick and chaste, parting as quick as it began. 

Your eyes narrow, your lips downturned. “I wore this for you.” It came out with a pout, annoyed with his sexless kiss. 

Javier chuckles at that, “Beyakka” He mocks you, knowing that sort of slang was unique to you and your family. “How much have you had to drink?”

You let out an aggressive eye roll and groan, “You keep asking me the same questions!” 

“I’m just concerned considering you would never admit to wearing anything specifically for me.” 

You shot him a glare, “Two martinis and 2 shots. I just feel buzzed if anything. I can handle my liquor.” Stepping apart from him you face forward, eyeing the declining floors. Javi bites away a smirk watching your skin rising with goosebumps. You shrug, “Just wanted to catch your attention is all.”

Javi chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. Hugging you from behind, holding your lithe form tight to his front. Craning his head into your shoulder, “You’ve got all my attention princesa.” His lips grazing your ear. Teasingly you giggle and wiggle your behind on his crotch, Javi drops his head into your neck. “Andrea–now's not the best…” He warns.

The elevator dings and you’re on your floor, you let out an annoyed groan and strut ahead of him. And it’s the way he could see the small dimples on your back and the tiniest hickey on your shoulder—he gives in. Pacing himself to walk ahead of you down the dimly lit hall, you let out a huff of frustration when he stops at your door. Patting his pocket for the keys, he unlocks the door and pushes you inside in a deft move. 

You nearly slip out a giggle but you’re tense the second he lays both hands on the dips of your waist. His broad form pressing against you from behind.

“Get on all fours.” His lips graze your exposed ear, throbbing intensely down below. You weren’t drunk, a bit buzzed, tipsy, loose. Irrelevant, all you knew is whatever was in that martini heightened your senses. You’d wanted to climb into Javi’s lap and make out with for hours like some depraved teen. 

Why lie, when Javier slid his hand into your dress in his protective hold you fought the urge to take a sinful seat on his thigh and release some tension in front of the professor. 

Horny was an understatement.

Without second thought you drop to your knees. Long brown hair pooling at the sides of your face, arching like a kitten before slightly straightening, Javi lets out a throaty grunt at that. Holy fuck were your cheeks hot, you bite a smile. It’s quiet, like Javi is figuring what he wants to do with you next. Fingers curling on the hotel rug, filthy, you were practically dripping. 

“Crawl to the bed. Don’t get on it.” 

You smirk, face hidden from him and you comply. A slight head rush developed from the position but you inch your way further into the room, knowing this position has your dress dipping lower almost ruining your lovely surprise. 

And he’s inching behind you, the lovely tune of his belt buckle jangling comes from behind and  you’re sickeningly close to letting out a whimper. Thankfully you make it to the door of the bed. You experimentally look over your shoulder. You nearly regret the decision because now your stomach is somehow twisting in more anticipation. He’s looking down at you with a hand rubbing himself, you want to release him, put him in your mouth like earlier. You want him to stop being cruel, he’s made you wait enough for him. “You look perfect, arch more, I want to see all of you querida.”

On display for him, only him you dip lower perching your behind up. It seems to do it for him because in a split second he’s bending down and wrapping his forearms on your lower stomach and lifting you weightless onto the bed above you. 

Thrown on your back you finally get to see all of him and god if the low look of desire isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen you don’t know what could come next. But oh, his palms push your knees to your chest and your lovely loose dress is pooling in bunches of fabric at your bent waist. Your aching cunt on full display for him, save the panties. And that look—right there. His face of realization, the slight tick of his jaw, twitch of his stache and the crease between his brows deepening—then his glance back up to me. 

“Dirty girl.” He grits, squeezing the inside of your thigh and oh he’s so close you couldn’t care to save face. “Dancing around all night with nothing on under your dress.” 

“Please fill me up—please just put it in Javi.”

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, his eyes are razor focused on your cunt and he drops to your knees. “I’m gonna eat you till you cry alright?” He kisses your inner thigh, hot and wet. 

You nod frantically, “O-okay.” It’s rushed and broken. A gasp rips through your chest when a tight slap hits your thigh, the skin rippling. 

“Say my name.” He demands. Kissing over the red mark on your thigh. 

“Yes Javier.” You whimper through gritted teeth, wanting to abandon the whole dress, just wanting to be nude to feel him completely. No time because his kisses begin to trail closer in approval. A centimeter apart each time until he’s there, you, still a leaky girl in front of him. Forgetting the sweet slow kisses, he goes for the kills. He consumes you.

You jolt almost immediately as his tongue starts off with lapping your clit. You’re wiggling and panting, your view just the top of his head and the grip he has on the top of your thighs. You’d frame it if you could, Javi just making a home for himself between your legs. And he’s moaning writhing too, you pulled to the edge of the bed while his knees stay sunken on the floor. He’s grinding his own hips into the bed and you whimper at the yearning pit you have to have him inside again. How had it been that you allowed your ex to skip over this part, with every suck and lick you were unraveling below him. 

“So soft, never getting over it.” He kisses your cunt softly to give himself space to praise. 

You smirk, your own hands groping at your clothed breasts. “Softer inside.” You jolt your hips a bit and Javi mumbles against your cunt before sinking his tongue into your tight hole and it shrinks around him, desperate for his cock. You had him twice today but there was something about being here with him that sent your libido on overdrive. It felt like a honeymoon, like the two of you were on a high you could never get down from. 

His fingers slide through, taking the place of his tongue and he dips two thick fingers inside of you, watches you squirm. “You’re mine, right querida?” There it is. That sweet desperation. The hand offered for reassurance, the two of you sure enjoyed hearing it as much as you enjoyed asking for it. 

Your brows screw, oh you were devastatingly close. God you were his, his, his—“Yours— oh fuck yes baby all yours. Yours, yours,yours.”

 Oh Javi likes that, he removes his fingers and they go back to the bottoms of your thighs, pushing your knees as far as they can to your chest. He doesn’t let up, he does as he promises because the stimulation is so much— you’re crying in pure bliss. 

His hot heavy tongue licks and flicks at your clit so aggressively— so skilled your stomach pits in jealousy. “Who-who taught you this— how do you do it so—“ Your body decides jealousy has no place here because-“I’m gonna cum—“

It isn’t fair to call it a warning because in an instant you’re dripping in come. His mouth slowing and lowering again to collect from where you release.  Leaving you wet kisses and sucks, the same way he kisses you above, he kisses you below. Your hands find his hair, forcing him back up to you. His mustache glistening while he smiles smugly at your withering pants and frantic hands. Hand falling to the back of his neck and tonguing him down. His wide body between your legs. Giving him sloppy drunk kisses, all tongue and teeth. And god you need him inside. 

He very obviously does too. His hardness embarrassingly evident through his pants. You slip a little moan—“Use your words, don’t know what you want with all those little noises.” He grits, kissing your cheek then below your ear, down your neck. Your hands roam his chest until you’re right above his unbuttoned pants. 

“I want you—I want you to fuck me like this.” You say—no-demand. The two of you hadn’t fucked missionary since the second time. You were feeling awfully depraved, you just wanted to sloppily kiss him while he rocked into you. 

He nods into your neck, sucking and nipping. “Anything-anything you want.” He whispers, and despite having him lick you to your climax nothing flips your stomach quite like this, like him leaving you sweet kisses and giving it to you your way. Too eager to strip down, your pull him from his jeans and spread your legs farther to give him access. “Put it in baby.” 

You blindly drag his cock between your folds while Javier attempts to lift his head to kiss you but the second you guide himself to prod your aching cunt his head falls. And with eyes pinched you feed him into the mouth. He lets out a groan so deep you feel his throat vibrating on your own shoulder. “Fucking perfect—so tight.” 

“Too big–” Warming him, your head is so light you could tell him you loved him and would never think twice. This is dangerously intimate. The words have been on the top of your tongue the entire day, can he tell? Will he taste it when he kisses you again? “Used to touch myself thinking of you.” You admit, what is it about him that makes your shame cease to exist? He moans at that and begins rocking into you. 

“Tell me more—“

“My ex never made me come—fuck—would go to the bathroom after and finish within minutes thinking of you.” Javi grumbles, quickening his pace. “Lucky your names were nearly the same, used to moan your name and he never noticed.”

“Jesus you’re killing me.” Javi kisses your neck some more and hits a spot so devastatingly deep from this angle you shriek in pleasure, another confession slipping your lips.

“Had this fantasy—would imagine you coming home to me—our home and letting you fuck me senseless. Whenever—ngh- you wanted.” He stutters into you, filling you so right. You could feel the bulbous head of his hitting right where you needed. “Pictured you taking care of me and would come so hard baby—“

His hand flattens on your lower stomach and he presses down, somehow tightening everything below. You let out a tiny whimper, “No more—gonna make me come too fast.” He whines his hips into you. Keeping himself slow and steady for a moment. It felt so good—so full you couldn’t give time to reel in the pillow talk confessions you so effortlessly spilled. How you would cry in shame when you were alone after the guilt kicked in. 

The midst of your pleasure, your eyes search the side of your boyfriend's face. A sudden wash of panic and dread filling your heart. 

Why do you have to leave? Why does everyone , take me with you Javi-

“Thought about you the whole time while I was gone, felt like Colombia became too real during that meeting.” He admits, planting a warm kiss to your shoulder, his pace so slow you feel something else swirl at the pit of your stomach. He leans on his elbow and slips his hand between you two. His fingers swirling lazily on your bundle of nerves. Words caught in your throat, please don’t leave me. I can't bare it. “Felipe suggested we just get married and go to Colombia together.” 

Your eyes jolt open and you sobered at that. You turn to look him in the eyes and there’s something there, that look you know. Adoration, hope, pleading? All three, you know it’s all three. What are you pleading for Javi, I can give it to you. “Yeah?” You whisper, achingly close to your second orgasm, you play it cool. You kiss his cheek quickly, “What’d you say?” There it is, eyes welling up and throat tight. He doesn’t seem to notice, he continues his lovely strokes and antagonizing traces on your clit. 

He’s silent until he isn’t. 

“Laughed it off you know—it’s irresponsible—unrealistic. Forget these people don’t know what it’s like back in Laredo.” He says brokenly, he’s close to you too. Your face drops, color drains from your face. You thank the dim lights of the room because you begin to tear. Burying your head into his neck, you whisper harder, to replace that dread that fills you. Oblivious to your reaction he complies with your request. And for a moment it feels so good you nearly forget. He’s removing his fingers from your clit and moving them to grip at your hip bone. Setting a brutal pace into you. And he’s back to kissing you, your eyes screw shut at the reminder that he’s real, he’s with you. That you love him so desperately, so complete, entire and whole you don’t know how you could find anyone else. 

I love you in a place where there’s no space or time. 

“I lo-“

“I never want to leave you.” He cuts before pressing into you hard and the both of you reach your peak. A head light crashing orgasm, his open mouth kisses drag to your ear where he moans, drawing out your momentary bliss. You squeeze around him so tightly, you could practically feel the spend you’re pulling from him. You’re leaking all over him, right to base and down to his balls. His hand on your hip coming up to your clothed breast with a firm as he slowly goes soft inside you. And you see white, keeping your mouth purely for kisses and whimpers, afraid of saying too much. 

Afraid of being too real for him. 

“Housekeeping is going to have a field day in this room.” He chuckles, planting a kiss right on the delicate arch of your cheekbone. So exhausted from it all, the car ride, the sex, the drinking—you giggle back. Hiding all the strange yearning you felt seconds ago.

“I’d quit my job.” Javi drops his head in your neck and grumbles there too. His palm still firmly placed on the swell of your breast through the black fabric. You look down at the sight. “So do you like the dress?”

He lifts his head to look at you, face all red and sweaty. You bring your hands up to trace the slopes and curves on him, how you loved his nose. Your nail traces from his temple to its strong arch to the top of nostrils where it’s soft. He gives you a lazy smirk when your finger finds his cupid's bow. “I’m still inside of you, you know that right?” Your brows shoot up and giggle at your own silly question. The two of you are chuckling and intertwined. Your finger turns to a palm as you cup his cheek in a hold. Just taking a look at him. Suddenly he's shy under your gaze, his eyes diverting from your own. 

As if being loved was too intimate for him. 

“You are the most handsome man I've ever known.” You admit, peering up for a second to kiss him chastly. The timid glance switches and he's back to being cocky ol’ Javi.

“Oh yeah?” He kisses you again, “Hmm… tell me more.”

You thumb his cheek, and he turns his head to the left to kiss his palm. “And I’ve always had this like… really big crush on you.” 

His eyes widened in fake shock. “Really?!” 

“Oh yeah… too bad you didn't like me back then.” You tease.

Javi shakes his head and removes himself from you. Your cunt makes a sound that warms your cheeks and he plops down next to you. “You love to alter the story–making it seem like it was some one sided thing.”

“Wasn't it?” You challenge. It was a mixture. Part of you still believed that it was only you. That you had crushed a bit too hard and he had just been a good friend, the kiss being a moment between two teenagers who were too horny for their own good. Then there was what was closest to the truth, that you had a devastatingly painful crush and that Javi had it too and couldn't conceptualize it because it developed while he was already with someone else. 

“I liked you so much I had to move away.” 

You shake your head in annoyance, sitting up in bed. Your dress falling back over your knees and the sight must be funny because Javier lets out a throaty chuckle at the sight of you. You crane your neck to look into the mirror at the corner of the room. You’re  met with your blowout tussled and your mascara streaked. “Not funny.” You frown and he reaches his arm up to swipe a thumb under your eye, cleaning whatever makeup you had left over. You in turn grip his wrist. “You liked me so much you pretended I didn't exist for six years.” You bite, and that's all it is, bite. His lips quirk and you're so happy the two of you are in a place to make light of it all. 

“I would have been saved from a whole lot of suffering if that were true.”

“You like to suffer.” Shaking your head and placing his hand back down to his chest. You bring your arms over your head to pull the halter of the dress down, stripping yourself nude in one quick pull, tossing the dress to the floor. Mindlessly you tuck yourself under the covers, rolling your neck and tossing your hair over one shoulder. You look back to Javi who has his jaw clenched and an unamused look. “What?”

He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Nothing. If I say what I want to, we'll never get any sleep.”

“We’re on vacation we can afford to lose some.” 

He grumbles a noise of disapproval before stripping himself down and tossing his clothes to the side. He settles in next to you, keeping a safe distance considering from what you saw he was getting a hard on already. “We can't. I have the last meeting early in the morning.”

Mid yawn, “Oh please, we can sleep after your meeting.”

Reaching over to shut off the lamp he mumbles something in Spanish about me being worse than a man. “I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow.” 

Lips upturning in the dark, you couldn't care to make space. You scooch into him, laying your head right on his chest. “You got me a surprise.”

“Yes.” He says nonchalantly, almost grumpy and god you loved him.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 20

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.4k

a/n: I forget that the strip of time between midterms and finals is about A WEEK. So I have been manhandled and tossed around (not in a fun way) this semester. I finally have time to breath this break.

Please enjoy , this chapter is all love.

I have a surprise for you all soon.

Also, thank you @ficjoelispunk for the kind words about RLW, it inspired me to continue when I was in a rut because of finals. Thank you.

You overestimated how tired you were because you woke up with drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and the worst morning breath of 1986. The sheets were rustled and missing the body you clung to most of the night. Rolling your neck and stretching your limbs so tight you spasm a bit, you look over to the clock reading 1:15 pm. Yikes. 

Yawning, for some reason. You slept for nearly 13 hours, there’s no reason for you to still feel-

Then, the loudest most earth shattering rumble from the pits of your belly shook your entire body. 

“Well shit.” You mumble to yourself, pulling the covers up to conceal your breasts while you stretch over to the telephone on the nightstand. Eyes squinted you drag a manicured hand down the list of extensions for services. Maid service? Might as well. 

Dialing the numbers you wait. 

“Hi-Hello. Um could I please get um… whatever breakfast you have up to room 417.” 

“Well we’ve got honeymoon eggs, croque madame, quiche Lorraine.” You roll your tongue against your cheek and smile to yourself. 

“Could I just get scrambled eggs and a Belgian waffle. No syrup, just butter and uh...powdered sugar!” Your glance over to the space where Javier had been. “Get me beignets too actually.” Your lips quirking.

You pictured it so clearly, it was summer again and you were thirteen. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead from biking uphill in 97 degree weather. Your brother and Genie up ahead talking about something important to them. Javi had been a few weeks from fifteen, the summer was ending. He paced with you every time you biked anywhere. I’m not laughing, he’d laugh as he waited for you to catch your breath at the new shop across town. It was rare for anything new to open up so the second your ragtag group got word of the bakery opening by the new 7/11, plans were made. 

You remembered the air conditioning in the place being blasted so high you let out a joyful squeal when you walked in. Tall adults ahead of you in line covering the menu. Peering your neck to get a glance, getting frustrated at how packed the small bakery was. Guess they weren’t the only ones with a plan. Suddenly hands tuck under your arms and you’re being lifted. You gasp so loud your brother whips his head back in concern before breaking out into laughter while you’re held in the air by Javier. With your eyes blown wide and your stomach dangerously pitted, Javier grunts below you. 

“A-alright make a decision I can’t hold you for so long.” He groans, “Although I know you’re just gonna order the beignets.” 

You scoff and he puts you down. And he pays for an order of beignets, blowing powdered sugar in your face as you all sat and ate. 

You wonder if he’ll remember when he comes back from his meeting. You’re giddy at the memory, the two of you were always sweet huh?

Well you feast and the housekeepers come in and strip the bed and dishes while you shower. You attempt to dress appropriately considering Javier hadn’t disclosed any details about what the day entailed. You opted for the orange ribbed tank top, a matching cardigan and a gray wrap skirt. And you knew how much Javier adored your hair wet in its natural state of waves so you hadn't bothered using the outdated hotel dryer. 

Javier bursts into the room early at one pm, you're at the desk squinting into your compact. Removing the mascara that had spread to your lid. Rubbing your glossed lips in the meantime, watching him from your peripheral you could feel the stress expanding from him as he places his coat on the bed. Reluctantly you look at him as he rolls his neck, “Hi…” You croak, stupidly nervous suddenly. You can taste the bad mood. Your eyes avert and you open your compact again to look busy. He doesn't respond, just the sound of his shoes across the rug. Through the compact you see him crowd your chair and before you could look back at him he’s placing a kiss to your scalp. Closing your eyes to take in the gentleness your turn in your seat to look up at him as he’s hunched over, your palm closing on his cheek and kissing him tender. 

“Hi.” he finally responds. Your eyes crinkle at their corners.

“I saved you something.” You kiss him again before reaching over for the plate of beignets. His eyes are bright and wide when he gets a glance.

“Jesus–thank you.” Setting the plate down, you stand, giving him your seat as you are done getting ready. He sits and grunts the second you attempt to give him space to eat, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. “Don’t you dare leave.” 

You roll your eyes, picking up the doughy concoction and bring it to his lips with your hand cupped to catch the powder. Good thing you weren't wearing black. “Do you remember when we had these for the first time?” 

Javi takes an aggressive bite and scrunches his brow before smiling as he chews. You liked to watch him eat, you think it had to do with the way his jaw strained, you desperately wanted to lick and kiss on his jawline. “Yes… There were so many people in that bakery. I remember that guy–”

“What guy?” Your brain starts indexing and filing the memory, you don't remember much after he picked you up you must have been in a blushing daze. Javier takes another bite.

Licking his lips, “The guy that elbowed you to get ahead in line– me and your brother flipped out on him–wait you don't remember?” He mumbles seems like something you’d remember, you pinch his arm with a laugh and it all comes back to you. You all had waited on the line and someone attempted to cut, elbowing your ribs in the process. You recall gasping and immediately gripping at your rib at the sudden bruise. Javi called the man some sort of dickhead while your brother asked if you were okay. Javier finishes the sweet, reaching around you to grab a napkin. “Thank you for saving me some but we have plans in 15 minutes.”

Your cheeks burn bright and you give him a small smile, “Oh do we?” You place a hand on his shoulder, dragging it down to his bicep. You watch goosebumps rise on the sliver of skin peeking from his shirt. 

He grips at your waist playfully, “Yes we do. Now up–before I keep you trapped in this room all day.” He gives your behind a small spank, he mumbles, tempting me with that tiny skirt.

Javier doesn't tell you where he’s taking you. All you know is that it's walking distance from your lodging. He nods a tight lipped smile to a few colleagues in the halls of the hotel, his hand grip yours firmly. You knew he was protective of you before all of this, you hadn’t pictured he’d be this possessive in public. You absolutely adored it. You refrain from psycho analyzing your desire to be held and protected by your partner and opt to bask in the fleeting moment with your head leaning on his arm as you walk into the busy streets of New Orleans. 

Javier wastes no time in using his left hand to fish for his sunglasses. Oh it was a gorgeous day, a rare breeze in June and jazz filling the air. You were beaming and walking ahead, dragging Javier with you. “Please tell me you’re taking me to the French Quarter, I’ve never been.” You drag him down the unfamiliar streets. 

He chuckles, “We are but it’s actually that way.” His voice has a slight rasp to it, you wonder if he’s getting sick. He points and shifts his force, slightly pulling you closer to him as he crosses the street. The street off the Roosevelt wasn’t much, but to you it had been everything. You had been so used to the flat impossible to walk anywhere landscape of Florida and the too-small-for-its-own-good of your hometown that when you look up to see the buildings tall enough to block the sun you feel a wave of satisfaction. You were on vacation. You walk, taking in the streets, the architecture. The red brick sidewalks and the creole style buildings.

The colors so bright, your orange top matches a building you pass and you suddenly wish Javier took his camera. Javier eventually lets you go in the spirit of watching your wonder take control of your body. He watches every small bit of your reactions, he wants to tell you about the places he had been in those six years. Had you known he came down to New Orleans three times before, that he thought of bringing you here once already. His eyes crinkle at their corners when a woman carrying a small puppy in her hands stops to call you beautiful. Your face goes beet red as you thank her and ask to pet the tiny thing before she blesses you.

You look back at Javi, slowing to get to his side again. “That was the nicest thing to happen to me, ever.” You snake your hand into his and his chest fills with a warmth only you can provide. How scary is that?

“Well you do look beautiful, been watching you this whole time.” He admits, hold the shame-it’s just you. You smile a dimple deep grin and  bring your conjoined hands to your lips, kissing him on the dorsal of his hand. Leaving your mark, your eyes flitting up. You gasp. 

“We’re here oh my god!” ahead of you the time ceases to exist. The past in front of you, buildings gradually changing in style, some new in its classic Creole style and others chipping and rustic, the greenery. And so colorful. The sounds of street performers and parents positioning their kids for photos swarm you two. “We should pay one of those tourist photographers to take a picture of us.” You suggest, 

Javi swallows thickly. He knew once he’s given the picture he’d carry it wherever he went, he imagines it taped onto his desk in Colombia. His chest aches at the idea.

He nods, and lets you drag him to a man with a large polaroid camera snapping a picture of an elderly couple. Javi checks his watch. He frowns, he had a plan for the two of you—it was important to him but he so desperately didn’t want to cut short the spark in your eye. You wait patiently with your hands behind your back and Javi thinks it’s the cutest shit ever. He places a palm right above your behind for attention, craning his neck to speak to you. “I told the man at Belle Form that we’d be there in 15 minutes.” 

Your lips quirk in a little confused smile, your brows pulling together. “What’s that-“

“Does the lovely couple want a photo?”  The man calls and Javi nods, taking your hand and walk the two of you in front of the pale yellow building, wrapping his arm around your waist. You blush furiously and lean your head against his chest. The man croons, lifting his camera to his eye. “Beau couple, bisous! Kiss! For the second one.” Your eyes widen but Javier doesn’t allow himself to think, he grabs your jaw and kisses you softly as the man snaps his second shot. 

The two of you part and the man holds both images in his hand, letting his camera fall against his chest. He doesn’t shake it, Javi reaches his bulky pocket, fishing a ten from his wallet. “Keep the change, let’s go.” You smile at the man and take the pictures before Javier is hauling you along.

“God where are you taking me!” You exclaim, bringing the photos to the light, squinting to see the image slowly developing. Javier chuckles, his hand patting the box like shape in his pocket opposite his wallet, your brows pull together too curious to know what it is.

“I came to New Orleans by myself for work in 1982.” He states. It starts like all of his stories, sudden and straightforward. Your chest absolutely blooms, you loved kissing him, keeping him close but nothing came close to hearing stories about his life. Seeing things from his eyes. And maybe it had to do with the nights you spent in your dorm wondering just what he was doing at that moment. Over the bustling noises of Canal street. “I spent the whole weekend alone, I ended up at a museum. You know I expected paintings, maybe photographs—I hadn’t known that galleries displayed poetry in their exhibits.”

You frown, unsure where he’s going with the story. Something awful turns inside of you when you picture Javier alone in a place like this. You lean into him more as the two of you strolled. He continues. “My mother wouldn’t call herself a poet but she was. She came to America with just her poetry book and her copy of Twenty Love Songs and a Song of Despair. My mom was the biggest Neruda fan out there. And the exhibit had been an ode to Pablo Neruda.” 

His eyes covered, they had been misty. He never got emotional over his mother, over the thought of her or the memory of her face. Instead every time he hears a poem he thinks of her, and for some reason that is what twists his insides. You look down at your feet, eyes glassy too. 

“Anyway the gallery is called La Belle Form, it’s right up here.”

You give him a simple kiss to his shoulder and his tense form drops slightly. “So what exhibit are we seeing today?”

Javier chuckles, cutting the tension he created. Taking the photo from your hand, the small white border pinched between his thumb and pointer. His own cheeks redden at the sight of the two of you deep in a kiss. “We aren’t seeing their current exhibit.”

“Javier, it's been quite some time.” a man in a three piece suit opens the door to the dimly lit gallery. Your eyes widen and you look up to Javier, he had been here only once yet a local remembers him by name. The man looks late into his fifties, with dreadlocks pulled in a low ponytail with streaks of gray. He reminds you of a professor you had at Miami. The gallery is empty as you step in, only a few paintings hung and half written words stuck to the walls. Is this place even open?

The cold air from the air conditioning eases you though, the Louisiana heat was nothing to be played with. Javier holds your hand in his as you two follow behind the man before he stops in the middle of the studio. “I’m Edmond Marcel, this was my father's art gallery–I’m sure Javier here told you about how we met.” He glances at the brick wall of the man next to you. 

You ignore his last bit and reach your hand out, “I’m Andrea Diaz, Javier’s girlfriend.” You wear the title with pride, you’ll entertain it for now, you know once you go home you could never use the thing. Edmond gives Javier an approving smile and shakes yours firmly. “This is beautiful real estate, my goodness.” It truly was, from outside it seemed like a small gallery but once you were inside the depth of the place went on, the ceilings high and there had been half walls creating canvases for exhibits. 

Javier lets your hand go as you step closer to a wall with a painting of a man sitting on a stool cleaning his trumpet, attached to the wall was a shelf with two headsets and a cassette player. Just above the shelf is a label, Excerpt from L’il Liza Jane, 1916. Your eyes go wide at the date and you look back at Edmond, pointing at the display asking for permission with just the wonder in your eyes. He lets out a hearty laugh, “I’m still working on the curation for this exhibit, feel free to explore while I set up in the back. Keep her entertained.” He pushes Javier’s shoulder and walks off. 

You stay in silence until you hear a room door shut from around the corner. Your eyes snap to Javier once it's safe, “Okay– how do you know this super cool old man.” You whisper, taking a few steps, your gaze meeting a drawing of Nina Simone. Javi laughs, slinging his arm over your shoulders while the two of you observe the beautiful penmanship of the all smudge ink drawing of the singer. 

“I told you I visited his gallery four years ago.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, he could always tell when you were getting cold. You had just been thanking the gods for the cool air of the museum but you chilled easier than a gold diggers heart. Your lips still purse in confusion, it just doesn't make sense. You could name 40 places you've been to in the past year and you doubt any of the workers could remember who you were. 

“So you met him once and he's willing to open his place up for you.”

“Kind of– it isn't just that-”

“Romeo and Juliet, come back here.” Edmond calls from an unknown corner. Your brows pull even tighter and Javier sets off a pleased look at the announcement before taking your hand and bringing you to the back office where Edmond yelled from. You have a small smile on your bemused face, your eyes fall to half finished paintings and sculptures propped before you're at the doorway of an art studio. Edmond blocks any view with his eyes glancing down at his watch. The two of you stand in front of the man hand in hand. “I’ll be removing some vinyl lettering from the last exhibit by the Alyce Frank painting, be gentle, don’t mess with the prints. Getting reprints is expensive and it's just me, when you're done leave them there. I’ll clean them up.” He nods, giving me a smile and Javier a nod again, squeezing his shoulder and leaving once again. 

The room is lit warm, open shelves and dividers holding older art line the walls. The walls painted a light gray. The rooms huge, years and years of work so meticulously separated and protected in the cases and shelves. But in the middle of the room lies a table. Your brows furrow as you approach the cluttered area. Your eyes straining to read the prints, your heart skipping a beat when you notice each print signed off the same.

Neruda

Neruda

Neruda. 

Your brain doesn't catch up with your heart, your body is on autopilot as you sit yourself on the stool. Your finger traces along the multiple poems laid out, the photos of him, his home, a tomb that isn't his. In the direct center is a case of pens. It was the exhibit Javier had seen all those years ago, maybe it wasn't everything but god were there a lot of poems on that table. Your eyes fall on a watercolor painting of a blue and red home. 

“I was only 20 when I came here. I was miserable the entire week, I didn't find enjoyment in sight seeing if no one was there to see it with me.” You listen to Javier speak from behind you, you listen with emotion crawling in your throat but you also read. 

So on the coast comes to light,

out of seething shadow, the harsh dawn,

gnawed at by the moving salt,

swept clean by the mass of night,

bloodstained in its sea-washed crater.

He knows you, he knows your silence is an invitation for more, “I strangely thought about my mother the entire week I was here. It probably had to do with all of the history, the culture, the folklore that surrounded this city. It was–it seemed like somewhere she’d run off to.” He admits. It's the first time you hear a hope in his voice, a small wish that maybe he'd run into his mother. You chew onto the inside of your lip to hide the tears that threatened to fall. He was just like you, wasn't he? “I thought of you too. At that point when I was in Houston, surrounded by work and Lorraine, I had tried to bury any thought of home. But I came here, alone and I guess it hit me.”

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.

My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.

I love what I do not have. You are so far.

My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.

But night comes and starts to sing to me.

“Anyway I ended up here, and seeing the exhibit just set me off. It was after–”

Your eyes fall to the image of the tombstone, a poem engraved in spanish. “Pure your gentle name” You whisper, low enough for you to hear but you know he heard you because he sucks in a shaky breath. You read the rest in a whisper, translating in english because you had seen it before. You know it sat framed next to the bowl where the car keys went in the Peña house. 

Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life,

bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam,

combined with steel and wire and

pollen to make up your firm

and delicate being.

“My father gifted my mother a poetry book with that poem engraved in it. He gave it to her in the hospital the day I was born. She took it with her when she left, my dad has a copy of it framed. The image of the grave was next to a painting of Tina Modotti. I cried for the first time in a long time in the bathroom.” You don't dare turn to look at him because you could hear the nerves in his voice and that alone is setting you a fine line of sobs of devastation and adoration. “Edmond found me in the bathroom and you know me–I don't just open to everybody but the second he asked me if I was alright…” Javier chuckles to hide a sniffle. “Ya tu sabes, I told him everything. About my mom, about my dad… about you.” 

“Me?” You whisper to yourself, Javier grumbles from behind you and finally moves to sit with you. Hurriedly you wipe your eyes, strangely, yet so him… he holds your hand. Rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Was he-did he-”

“His father died during his fifteenth year of being a therapist, so he had useful advice to say the least.” His hand moves to the image of the tombstone, dragging in front of both of you. “I told him that this poem gave me bad memories, remembering when she left and how I tore the house apart looking for her poetry book and my dad found me in all that clutter– I was a mess.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, the small bits of his story came in slowly but you were all ears. A hand wrapped around his bicep for comfort. Javiers free hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a choke itching in his throat. Another sniffle and you could feel the embarrassment illuminating off him, you spared him a glance and thumb his arm again. “Sorry-I don’t know why–” 

Your brows furrow, eyes watery. “Don’t apologize to me–is it why you stayed in contact with Edmond? Because of your moment in the bathroom?” You ask, steering him away from the direct thought of his childhood and you could feel the relief. Baby steps, you don’t need it all. You’re just so glad he’s opening up.

 Brushing a tear that got caught in his mustache, he begins again. “He just listened and asked my permission—he asked if it was okay for him to give me advice which was appreciated. He told me to give it new meaning, to remember it as my mothers but also to remember it as the love from my father. Remind myself that he gave her the book out of love for her, out of appreciation for carrying his child. Out of love for me.” Javi exhaled a laugh, “Shit, I went straight to the print shop and framed the poem when I got to Houston and then I wrote my dad a note about my conversation and sent him his own framed poem. Who knew a little therapy was all I needed.”

You screw your eyes shut in a cackle that echoed the room, rubbing your eyes clean of tears. You haven't had many people who cared enough to tell you beautiful tales of their life, you’ll take Javi’s broken stories any time. You looked around again, reality setting in. Javier Peña had an entire art gallery archive pulled for you– just for your date, he had been so grumpy all day and last night when you teased him about his gift probably because he was anxious for your reaction to him opening his heart out in front of you. It was the most romantic gift you've ever received. 

It’s him who makes you feel the most loved and he hasn’t even said the words yet. Maybe it’s you who must say it first. 

“Javier Peña, you're a romantic.” Is all you can manage to say, you say it with a smirk on your lips nonetheless. Gaze flitting up to him as his lips turn upwards beneath that mustache of his. Eyes narrowing in a failed attempt to keep a straight face but they crinkle and shine beneath. 

“Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my reputation.” He mumbles and you roll your eyes, slinging your arms over his shoulders and kissing him deep. Soft lips against yours and that so familiar manly feeling his mustache tickling your nose. He smiles between the kiss, slipping a risqué tongue. Pressing so hard you nearly tip off the stool. “Tan bella, Andrea, perfect.” He murmurs as you part, your lips raw from the make out intermission. Dizzy, light headed, you lean your head on his shoulder once more and take in the place around you.

All soft light and all his personal history. And selfishly for a moment you envied him for knowing his mother  enough to miss. You suddenly felt so silly for crying until you slept over someone who offered you nothing to miss. You want to pinch yourself to reprimand the silliness of it. Andrea, don’t you know you aren’t the only girl to have a dad up and leave? Why does your world have to end? 

“I was having what seemed to be a panic attack when I called you Thursday night.” Javier admits in hushed tones, like someone was in the room other than you. Like he’s ashamed to be so vulnerable. “I had this date planned in my head after the night you begged me to be honest with you, when you walked in on me reading the details for this trip. I planned the whole weekend out just for us before I ever offered. I was a little nervous to ask you, figured you’d tell me I’m crazy and that the risk was too high.” 

The crease between your brow deepens, “I’ll always say yes to you.” You whisper like a prayer, a promise. 

He mumbles an, I know, “When your brother came over to talk to me about you, about your grandmother and the possibility of you seeing your father in New Orleans I panicked. I had this full body ache of knowing I needed to be there for you when you see them and a weird chest spasm when I thought of it going wrong, then you cried on the phone and told me all you wanted was a family.” He says the last part fragile, gentle and pure. Like him repeating it pains him just as much as you. Yet you feel embarrassment more than pain, embarrassed to have been so desperate and needy that night, and sure you felt it deep in your bones but verbalizing it to someone else—fuck did that make your cheeks heat. 

You grimace, trying to conceal the genuine heart ache you felt hearing him recall that night. You offer nothing to say, afraid of speaking and breaking down on your first date with the boy you’ve dreamt of being with.

He spares you, shuffling in his seat, causing for you to sit straight as he fished in his pocket. While attempting to pull a box from his denim he talks, “But then I thought about how I had this planned—that it might help with what you might be feeling—fuck hold on.” He stands and digs his hands entirely into his trousers.

He pulls out a tiny box, your heart nearly falls until you realize it’s far too thin to be what you wanted deep inside—you abandon that thought. Not now, too soon. He sits again, and fully turns to you as the box lays unopened on the image of his mother’s favorite poem. “I told you on the phone that I was your family. Andrea, I really mean it. No matter what happens tomorrow—you are meeting them with a family and you’re leaving with one too.” He pats the box. And you tear your eyes away from him as they begin to well. 

Your shaking hands fumbling for the box.

Thumbnail slipped under its lid to delicately open the thing. And your heart swells beyond its capacity, “Oh Javi.” You whisper, there sitting on a reprint of Neruda is a box with interior engraving. 

Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life,

bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam,

combined with steel and wire and

pollen to make up your firm

and delicate being.

And sat so perfectly in the box were a pair of earrings. Small gold bees, its wings spread and instead of a striped abdomen and stinger, in its place sat a red stone carved in a perfect shape for the little insect. Your heart is going wild, so filled with love and appreciation. You wondered if this was real, if he was real? Will this end with, and it was all a dream? Will I wake up alone again? 

“Is-is that my birthstone?”

Javier nods, “I had it made on Tuesday when you saw me in the grocery store, I got nervous because the gift bag was in my hand.” 

You chuckle between tears, your hands reaching to remove the bees from its plush purple hive. “I didn’t notice—Javi-“

“I gifted my dad the poem to show him appreciation for being my family. You’re the only person in my family missing an heirloom. So that every time you wear it you’re reminded that you have a family.” 

Your brows quirk as you break out into tears, placing the jewelry back in its place and attacking your perfect boyfriend, your family, the hardest most aggressive kiss of all time. Nearly knocking him clear off his seat, you press into him so tightly you could feel his heart race against yours. And the kiss is all teeth and passion and frankly too charged for an art museum but you couldn’t care. You loved him so much, you cried hard like you’ve just been proposed to. Somehow this beats that fantasy. 

And so unlike Javier who tried to keep his serious manly face when you were this eager, he smiles and chuckles against your thankful, thankful lips. Parting for a breath you realize there had been tears from him too, with blurred eyes his thumb finds your cheek and like always he pushes away his own tears to clean up yours. His own cheeks wet, he thumbs your tears dry. No longer do they have to dry on their own. You couldn’t do this anymore, you cannot bear not telling him.

“Javi— I lo-“

“My goodness did I just interrupt a proposal!” Edmond enters the room with a gasp, his eyes bouncing from a jewelry box, a pile of Neruda poems and a teary eyed couple inches from devouring each other whole. 

Javier looks at you with an embarrassed smirk, his cheeks burning up under your own hand as you quickly wipe away his tears too. 

"Actually this is our first date."

[kirsteng42]

1 of my all time favourite Javi P series.. I just love the way these 2 are written, Celina has a phenomenal personality that makes Javier work for her which I love!!!! I really highly recommend this brilliant series, you won’t be disappointed at the time spent reading.

Heat Chapter 41: Enchantment

Back, back, back again~! Sorry for the long lag with this one. It’s a supersized chapter, at least, so I really hope it’s worth the wait 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here’s my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 26,000+

Summary: After your explosive confrontation with Javi concluded in a passionate tempest, you both take the time to regroup. Are your feelings for each other enough to overcome the turmoil of the past?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of angst, past trauma, resentments, frustration and emotional stress. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, women’s health, personal turmoil and regrets. Soft!Javi, Longing!Javi, and Sensitive!OFC. **OFC name reveal** In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 40: Hopes 

Chapter 41: Enchantment

In the early 1990s, Puerto Rico was besieged with an influx of crime fueled by the drug trade, violence, and trafficking moving through the U.S. territory. There were a whole host of factors that played into the archipelago’s woes, and the more one factor was pulled like a thread to its source, the clearer it became that it wasn’t even close to being similar to the situation in Colombia.

Really, it could be boiled down to the limbo Puerto Rico and its people floated in for over many decades, if not from as far back as Spain’s defeat to the United States during the Spanish-American War. After all, the nebulous status of being a modern-day colony in the late 20th century exacerbated many ills common in other places: poverty, lack of social mobility, and a classist system where the few controlled all the wealth and economic access of the many. But when you’re beholden to a federal overlord who was content to keep you at an arm’s length, but still shackled from having true self-governance and agency? These ills are only amplified, and become terminal symptoms for a population that are both U.S. citizens, but not truly Americans.

Keep reading

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 26

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hi... I said that if the Celtics won I'd post tonight so ya know! Here it is hehe. LETS GO CELTICS

Finally used the scene in Season 1 episode 5 of Narcos of Javi and Murphy in the car. There's a lot of perspective change in this one, this section will be like this most the time just because are characters are so far apart!

Ok bye enjoy

New Orleans 1988

“Do you remember being sixteen?”

You cackle, playing with the golden bee at your lobe, looking up at your student Chiron. He had been eating his lunch in your classroom for about two months since, the cafeterias ac is shit, his words. You dig into the cake your students bought you, they thought you would cancel their monday practice quiz with a little birthday celebration. They were greatly mistaken. 

Today you're twenty-four. Everytime you think of it your brain freezes.

 You remember being sixteen like it’s yesterday. You nod, washing down the store bought dry red velvety mess with water. “Yes. It sucked.”

Chiron laughs just the same, opening the pink milk box on his tray. “When were you sixteen? In 1950?”

You stare at him with your most deadpan look, shaking your head. “I turned sixteen in 1980. I was living in Laredo, Texas and I spent my birthday alone. I received flowers from my… friend and my mom took me dress shopping two days later. What was yours like?” 

You and Chiron talk every day. You know he lives in a group home, you know he gets excited when he gets asked about his own life and even more excited when someone shares stories about theirs. He reminds you everyday that you want to have a son one day, you guess you’ll tell him when he's older. Hopefully then you could introduce your son to him and have a laugh about it. 

Teaching has given you a purpose. Being away from home has given you a purpose. Knowing no one has given you a purpose. You tell him stories all the time, you’re going to sob when he walks across that stage in May. 

“I went to the arcade with Teresa.” Teresa has been his girlfriend since the ninth grade, she went to St. Mary’s. They met doing community service and Chiron knows that they're going to be married. “She bought me this chain with her paycheck from Rouses. Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

You look at the picture of your little sister and niece sat up on her desk. Little three year old Sol holding Frankies babygirl Annie. “I still don’t know anyone out here but my coworkers so I’ll probably order in, watch Dirty Dancing and wait for a call from my brother.” You think of Javier for a moment, wondering if he knows today's your birthday. 

You wonder if you have crossed his mind. 

You saw him in the paper when you went home for christmas, you didn't visit your mother. 

You went home to simply spoil the babies at Frankie's house. You drove right back to your third floor apartment in Nola. Cried into your pillow until you slept and did it all over again for three more nights. Chiron nods, you have told him small stories about your life because he loves to listen. You’re weary of sharing too much, only offering bits you know will make him feel seen. You let him cry when he said he tried to meet his father during Christmas break and he didn’t show. That's when you decided to tell him about your first trip to New Orleans. 

Chiron frowns and sips his milk. He just got a haircut, flat top style, he had been growing his hair out the whole year for it. “Do you think Javier will call you?”

You smile at Chiron. He had been trying to pry information about your former lover for weeks. It all started after Christmas break when he cried about his father. You told him that family can be found anywhere, that your only family for a bit was your best friend who happened to be your boyfriend. 

“Do you live with Javier now?”

You shook your head, “He moved away for work.” Nearly a lie, you didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell your seventeen year old student the painful details of your life. 

Chiron went quiet for a few seconds, his face going inward. Eyes shy and sad, it happens every time he’s asked about his parents.

“So who is your family now?”

Andrea drops her keys on her kitchen counter being greeted by tiny tweets. She grins from ear to ear, placing her purse down on the couch. Walking to her cage, the two birds chirped.

 “Are you singing Happy Birthday to me?” She gets on her tiptoes, offering her fingers to the babies, they take the chance. “Thank you, mommy’s going to watch Dirty Dancing because she’s lonely. Okay?”

She brings Jewel to her face in a phantom kiss while Harvey finds sanctuary on her shoulder. 

She always wanted pets but her mother never allowed it. The second Andrea put down her deposit for her apartment, she hopped in her car and bought two blue budgies. They nipped and scurried away from her each time she approached them but after two months of persistence they finally warmed up to her. They’re now her best friends. She’s become a crazy bird lady. Just in September she left a date abruptly because she realized she hadn't fed them in a day and a half. Its safe to say she didn’t get a call back from Mr. Henning.

She sits on her couch after loading the VHS and yawning. Her birdies flying back to their cage. 

That was the summer of 1963 - when everybody called me Baby, and it didn't occur to me to mind.

At 6pm she receives a call. Her heart sinks and for a moment she thinks, maybe.

But ultimately she knows not to be so silly, she knows she needs to be angry with him but she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She unravels herself from the nest she’s made on her couch and tip toes on the hardwood floor to her home phone. 

She spoke to Genie this morning, receiving a happy birthday song from her brother and their baby’s incoherent babbles. They say little Annie is upset that Tia Andrea lives so far. 

“Hello?” Andrea shushes her birds, they love to chirp when she’s on the phone. 

“Happy Birthday Andrea,”

 And she knows Don Chuchos voice anywhere. 

Andrea closes her eyes at the sound. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever and she’s riddled with grief at the sound of his voice after nearly two years. 

“Thank you Chucho.” Andrea remembers the way he looked at her when she sat in the blistering heat on Javier’s wedding day. He looked at her knowingly, he could see that beyond the made up face she was on the brink of a breakdown. “How’s everything back home?” 

“You would know if you stopped by to see me last month.”

She winces. When Andrea came home for Christmas she made it her business to be seen by no one. Especially anyone who knew anything about Javi. 

She was finally feeling better. 

Everything was out in the open now, everyone knew their business. The scandal blew through town, she had to leave.

“I know, I'm sorry. I’m just still working through everything that happened. I knew if I stopped by your house it would bring up old memories.” Since Andrea moved to New Orleans she has gone back to Laredo five times. Two of the times she visited her mother, every other time was a straight shot to Frankie’s home. Calling him to make sure he takes Sol for the day so Andrea could see her too. She would spend two lovely nights on their plush couch and drive home the next day. 

Through the crackle of the receiver Chucho hums in understanding. 

In a twisted way Andrea always wanted him to be her father. She loved the idea of marrying Javier for more reasons than one. She wanted to officially be a part of his tiny family she loved so deeply. 

“Would this be a bad time to talk about him?” 

Andrea, the despondent girl. A girl alone, leaning against her lonely walls, a girl belonging to no one. Is a girl who cannot resist hearing about the one she loved. 

Loves. 

“Yes.” She allows it. He complies because she knows he must have no one to talk to about this. 

“He told me last week that he’s seeing a specialist—therapist, once a week.”

She smiles. She remembers the last time they had sex they talked about reaching out for help. She supposes it’s her turn. 

“That’s- I'm relieved to hear that. Is he doing okay out there?” 

Andrea has a reoccurring nightmare. She’s walking to work, the heat is brutal and her hands are full of groceries. In her nightmare, one of the bags rip open, fruit falling on the concrete. Every time, she follows an apple that rolls until it hits a news stand. And there—there she sees his face. There she reads his public obituary, the slain American agent. There she dissolves to nothing and wakes up crying harder than she ever has. She cried until she felt like dissolving into nothing. 

“He spares me details that would send me into a stroke but you know. It’s very dangerous work but he’ll make it back home in one piece. He’s too stubborn to die young.” 

Her eyes flicker to the ground and her chin quivers at his words. “Do you miss him?” Is all she can mutter. She cannot be alone in this feeling. She doesn’t like to feel this way. She liked to believe that she gets along without him well, but sometimes the wind blows and it reminds her of summer nights in his bed and she isn’t sure she could go on lying to herself.

Chucho sighs, “He misses you.” He doesn’t answer your question. He knows what you wanted to ask. “He doesn’t tell me because he’s afraid, but every conversation I can hear it in his voice. He is still grieving being away from you, still grieving being deceived. I know you are too. But I wanted to call to tell you that he is okay. I want you to be okay too, Andrea.”

January 1988 Bogota, Colombia

There isn't much work being done. Scoping out for a sicario in a hundred degree weather wasn't ideal but it left some time for beers and ramblings. Murphy dug his hand into the cup holder for another sip of Club Colombiano. “So what year was this?” Murphy looks over to Javi. It had been almost a week since he last saw Hertz. His next session is in two days. He found himself walking with less weight. He even finally told Murphy the name of the girl whose picture is taped on the corner of his desk.

“1986” Javier rasps. “I was driving to the church. I was with my buddy Frankie. He was my best man.” He nearly whispers the last bit. “We were late. It was fucking blazing, 110 degrees. The whole bridal party was there sweating their balls off I’m sure. Frankie is shaking like a leaf next to me, like he’s fucking getting married. Looking for a lighter for a joint he rolled. Mind you, we're been in my bride's car since she arrived in a limousine.”

“Don’t tell me you left her at the altar.”

Javier deadpans, “Let me finish my story.” Murphy chuckles, pressing the cold beer to his neck. “He opens the glove compartment and some papers fall into his lap. And boom, we hit a traffic jam. Frankie, my best man, being the nosy fuck he his opens up the papers. He goes, three months pregnant as of June 6th, can't believe we’re both having kids. I swear to god–”

“No!” Murphy gasps.

“Yeah, Lorraine, the bride, and I hadn’t had sex since February of that year. She was showing a lot, I never thought twice when she told me she was five months along.” Murphy is staring at him like this was the juiciest television worthy story ever told. Javier looks blankly into the rolling hills of Colombia wondering why this happened to him. “I had dropped everything in my life to rush into a loveless marriage for the convenience of a family that wasn't even mine.” His eyes cast low and he feels sick. “So I turned the car around. And Andrea was there waiting to watch me marry someone else. In the heat.”

Murphy rarely knew who Andrea was other than the pretty ex-girlfriend whose picture is taped on his desk; he didn’t tell him too much. The story is enticing, he supposes. Exhilarating from the outside.

Murphy grins, “Well, you saved her a lifetime of hell.” 

He knows it’s true, his inner monologue being spat right back in his face yet he can’t seem to swallow that reality. He's a weak man, he hoped that Murphy would tell him he was wrong, that he needed to get up on a plane this instant and find his girl.

He’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, she never spoke to me again, Andrea I mean. She’ll probably be married to a-a stock broker or some shit when I come home.” If I come home, he intends to say but decides maybe this wasn’t the moment. “Trust me, she’s better off.”

“I told my partner, Steve Murphy, about the wedding.”

“That's amazing, Javier.” She sits back down in her brown leather chair, sipping her tea from her small yellow thermo. “How did you feel afterward?” Javier went home to drink himself to sleep. He decides to keep that detail to himself, before reaching forward to sip water instead of fulfilling his urge to light up.

“I felt like I’ve taken some sort of step forward. Then I remembered how it was telling Andrea. Then I felt like I regressed once again, I didn't wake up for work the next morning. This Tuesday I mean.” She’s taking it all in, yet something i n her twinkles. He sees her satisfaction, she knows this is a shy way of telling her he’s ready to talk about it again. Things are changing for him so quickly.

“We were cut for time last week.”

“We were.”

“So,”

“So.” Javier's eyes jet to the plush rug below him. “I walked to her house the night I agreed to marry Lorraine.”

June 18th 1986

He stopped by The Tap before strolling his way into your neighborhood. Sitting on a barstool like he would do back in High School, eyes peeled to the door wondering if his mother would miraculously walk in. This time he doesn’t drink so much, he pushes three beers back and feels sad enough to see you. Sad enough to break your heart. Liquid courage? Is that what they call it? He feels a buzz in his spine.

Somehow he ends up at your door. 

 “Javi, are you alright? It's late.” You whisper, closing the front door behind you. It reminds him of the time he walked to your house after getting wasted. Catching you in Cabaret makeup, you turning bright red under white paint. 

This time you’re bare faced and so much more of a woman. Javier studies you in a buzzed haze, you’re concerned and it’s pissing him off. There you are, barefoot on your porch. Caught off guard and still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You step down one step. He wants to drop to his knees and apologize. 

You sense his sorrow so you step back up to be near to his height, placing your hands on his face. Holding his face, “Baby, are you okay?” He knows your worried little face, he knows that somehow in that brain of yours—you’re conspiring what you could have done wrong. Yet it’s never you, it’s always him. You’ve never done wrong.

“Hey…” You whisper, attempting to soothe his quivering chin with a kiss. 

He looks away. Looking into your eyes will kill him. Rejecting your kiss all together. “I’m sorry.” Javier’s voice breaks, and he isn’t embarrassed but he wants to die. He wants it to end because he feels your body go cold without even having to look at you. He’s crying and hiding his face, holding you close and hard. Sobbing into your chest, staining your gray shirt like you did his when he left the first time. “I’m so sorry—I knew I wouldn’t be right for you—Querida, I’m sorry.”

----

He crushes your body with his. He’s muttering words about a wedding, a pregnancy and you’re being crushed. You’re losing air and you hope he squeezes you tighter, hope your eyes fog and you fall. 

Hope to wake up in a cold sweat, and it's all a bad dream. Hope to call him to hang out at the lake.  

He’s crying, and its the worst sound you’ve ever heard. Saying he didn’t mean to become a father. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He doesn’t know why he hurts you. He says he doesn’t want to be married to her. Calling you sweet names and cursing his own. 

You tell him over and over that it’s okay. Yet you hope he crushes you until you disappear.

 “It’s okay—Javi please, it’s okay— I understand.” You run a hand through his hair and lower your bodies to sit on the steps. It’s 2 am. He’s drunk and unable to give you details without crying in your lap now but you know all that you need to know.

When you saw her—Lorraine. When you saw her wide nose and round little belly you felt fear running through your veins. And you slept with that panic, you dismissed it but your bones felt it. Your intuition told you that the two of you will never be the same. You saw him stare at her belly for a second too long and there—right there— you knew you were in the way of something. 

Eventually he feels okay enough to sit up straight. He still can’t look at you and you miss him in your lap when he does. You miss being able to hide yourself from him. You miss being able to shut your eyes in agony at each word of consolation. Now he can see you, even if he doesn’t look you in the eye he can see you. 

You’re able to understand that she’s five months, that they gave him a choice. To never see her and his child, child— his child— or get married. Through it all you tell him it’s okay. 

“I don’t think I have another choice— I can’t be.-“

“A deadbeat.” You finish for him and he doesn’t respond. The two of you have a million unspoken words between the two of you. 

Look at me, look at what happens when you abandon your child. Look what girls like me put up with. Look at me, you hurt me and I'm still thinking of ways to make it work in my broken little brain. 

He knows what his mother did, how could he ever? How? So you could never find it in you to be angry. 

“I’m sorry— I just can’t.” 

You shut your eyes and lean back into the steps of your home. The sky was bright that night, you couldn’t understand why the universe still presented its beauty during such a moment. 

“When will you get married?” You suppose maybe you like to hurt yourself. 

“They said two weeks.” 

You drop your head into your hands and let out a sob. Heart slamming against your ribs, drowning in it. You fear that you’ll become one with earth, a puddle seeping into the grass ahead of you. You feel his panic next to you. He’s whispering your name, and tearing against the back of your head. Your shoulders wrack and you try to speak.

But you decide silence is all you can handle.

So you stay like this for a few minutes.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” You ask finally, pathetically. 

And he’s quick to nod, “Yes—please.” His deep voice sends a vibration down your spine. And the two of you walk into your home, without fear—no room for such a silly feeling. 

He undresses and you do too. 

He faces the ceiling and you fear neither of you will catch any hours tonight. You still curl into his chest, for the last time. Feeling his warm tan skin below your ear. You count his heartbeats for minutes at a time. You count your own, attempting to make it stop on your own. Your stomach hurts so badly, you may cry just from that. But you think that you’re a twenty two year old woman who is somehow all cried out. You think of the sun coming up and him getting up to leave, you wonder what the next two weeks will look like. 

You’re sure that if you could you’d stay just like this, together and avoidant until it’s time. Just like you planned a week ago when your only fear was him leaving to Colombia. 

You know he’d do the same because the two of you love pain like no other. You stay in your inferno of a brain for nearly an hour. You know he can’t sleep. 

“What are we going to do?” He asks and you frown. 

“Go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want to.” He’s quick to respond, angry.

“I know.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. But I have to. You have to.” 

“As long as I know you, I'll want you, Andrea.”

You shut your eyes and breathe. You hope he forgets you. You hope you can. You suppose you have to try. 

“After the wedding, I don’t think I’ll ever want to speak to you again.”

You feel him intake a shaky breath. Your heart breaks again. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

His chest rises, “It’s okay. I understand.” You nod, the post of the earrings he bought you scraping his skin. “We probably shouldn’t see each other after today.” He admits and you know he’s right.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I could be a bridesmaid?” You attempt to joke and he doesn’t laugh. You can’t tell what he does but he shivers. 

“Not funny.” 

“I’m sorry.” You exhale. And there the two of you are pensive. Already missing each other. 

He sighs and it's silent once more. “I really love you.”

You sigh just the same and you love him more. You decide you couldn’t say it out loud this time.

Colombia 1988

His elbow is rested on the arm of the chair and his mouth is pressed to a fist. Eyes closed for a few moments. He thinks of the silence of that night, how he hasn't heard you say I love you since. The words that kept him going, but fuck it, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He made their life such a mess, over and over again. Again his brain regresses to that of a child, of his own head when he was eleven, when he tore up his mothers room and stained her poetry with his tears. 

He has spent two years suffering, he knows there will be no winning. He lost you. He came here prematurely hoping to win in some way. To bring some good, save some people but he realized there's no winning here either. Just suffering and corruption. The longer he watches people die he swears his faith chips slowly with it.

So he looks over his shoulder once or twice when he leaves his session. There were very few words spoken by Dr. Hertz but what can you do when his story silences so many?

He wishes it could silence his own thoughts but instead it festers and crowds his brain in the most crucial moments. Like when he led a raid in a bar in Medellin and swore the woman who sat at the bar with a gun to her head was you. In genuine panic he freezes, the casualties raised from 24 to 25 at that moment. All because of you—him—all because of his thoughts of you, plaguing him.

And he thinks of you in the most insignificant moments. Insignificant like burying himself deep in the cunt of a woman who’s being paid. He thinks of you and can't keep it up from the guilt. What a curse it is to feel so deeply about someone. 

He remembers once, you lie beside him half asleep and mumbling like you did after sex. You said that sometimes love scares you so much that for a time you wished to never feel it. He thought of you so crazy, he fears he understands you now. 

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

The Holiday Special and Homecoming

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.2k

a/n:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy Holidays to all. Here's my little gift of a few short stories about the holidays in RLW. And yes... finally I have wrapped up the Homecoming story.

I listened to an awful lot of christmas songs while writing this, if anyone is interested I could attach a playlist (The Christmas Song by Nat "King" Cole is a must listen for this).

This is for you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine merry christmas beloved!

Thanksgiving 1977

By the time Andrea begins zipping up her sweater while walking home from school she realizes that perhaps her oh so thrilling friendship with Javier Peña was only a summer thing. On the last sticky day of august he ruffled her hair and joked about her sun freckles. Sitting at the lake’s dock, shoulder to shoulder a thirteen year old Andrea shares an orange with fifteen year old Javier. He tells her, her nose looked like a chocolate chip cookie, god forbid Javier even slightly throws a compliment her way. Andrea balls her hands in fists with a grin when she says thank you, her brother scoffing from the other edge of their lake dock, “He wasn’t complimenting you, you idiot.” He calls with a snort, Genie pinches his arm and he yelps. Javi looks over his tan shoulder at his best friend and laughs along. Her face falls when Javier doesn’t correct Frankie but instead pushes off away from her and runs to the other end and pushes her brother into the murky water with a voice crack laced scream. Andrea and Genie flinch from the splash. She flinches from the weather dropping below sixty, eyes narrow as she walk uphill after being dismissed for thanksgiving break. 

That was the last time she saw Javi. He stopped coming to the house to pick her and Frankie up. Two weeks into seventh grade she noticed how strange it was to not be with him. Everyone in the halls at school were strangers, shit, they hadn't even known she spent the summer crushing on Laredo’s cutest freshman. Andrea tries to practice self control by not bugging Frankie about where the hell his so-called best friend was. That was until of course October when Frankie snatched a piece of gum from Andrea’s bookbag. 

“Where are you going?” She asks, her head lifting from her damn geometry work. Frankie pops the gum in his mouth and shrugs. 

“Homecoming game with Javi.” He says it like its nothing. Her eyes go all needy and in the most little sister voice she begs to come with. Frankie screws up his face, “No. Absolutely not.” 

Andrea slams her pencil down feeling betrayed by her brother who just two months ago let her tag along, every time! 

“Have you been hanging out, like just you guys?” She asks, sounding more whiny than she wanted. 

“Yeah, we hang out every day.” He bends down and tightens the laces to his chucks, his Laredo high school pull string hoodie flopping over his head in the same movement. She remembers her heart sinking at that moment, How dare they leave her out! She stands from the chair, it screeches loud.

“What!”

Frankie laughs and heads out the door with a slam. 

So Andrea learns that, yeah, it's a summer thing.

She rewires her brain to believe it stays that way just because she was the only one still in middle school. But she still finds it beyond strange that she doesn't bump into him, not even once–not until thanksgiving. The Diaz household only celebrated christian holidays and occasionally birthdays, so thanksgiving was just another day. Andrea rolls over in bed after a good late afternoon nap, her eyes falling to her year wide calendar. 49 days until she’s fourteen. She prays she grows some boobs, blurry eyes staring down at the mosquito bites under the t-shirt. 

A knock at her room door has her sat up straight, patting down the wrinkles in her shirt. “Yes!” She calls, eyes wide and cheeks flush.

“It’s Javi.” 

Andrea nearly shrieks at the sound of his voice from behind the door and from the position she had just been in. Up on her feet she hurries to the mirror, “Give me a moment I’m-um-I’m naked.” She blurts, her cheeks heating at her brain's stupid stupid stupid self. Patting her hair in place and slipping on socks, her freckles are long gone. No longer is there a trace of summer on her, what if she was just prettier under the sun. 

 He chuckles behind the door, “Uh-um okay.”

“Come in.” She shouts instead of opening the door for him. She wonders if maybe she looks more grown, her eyes dance to the mirror and polka dot fluffy shorts that stopped mid thigh, nope definitely not. He opens the door and the sight is absolutely delightful. Javier clad in a flannel and jeans, his brows furrowing at her. Lips quirking into a smile and at that moment Andrea realizes this is Javier’s first time in her room. Her cheeks set a blaze, his eyes scan the place, he smiles lazily at a picture of the summer crew taped onto her vanity mirror. “Sorry, I was just changing after a nap.” Half true. Her eyes bounce anywhere but his own, god Andrea could be so obvious sometimes. Have I no shame? 

He frowns, lifting a tin foil plate up, suddenly the smell of Peña fresh pork and rice, and tamales. Andrea’s stomach grumbles cartoonishly and Javier splits into a chuckle. Andrea is utterly gobsmacked at how badly she likes the boy.  Is this what love feels like? Like the sound of their makes her ache, was she too young to feel that hard? She giggles anyway, “Sorry I’m so hungry, let's go to the kitchen.” She tilts her head toward the door and he nods, leading himself out. Shamelessly staring at the nape of his neck as she trails him down the stairs. She has a dangerous thought of her lips pressing right there, that thought freaks her out and she feels her stomach flip. 

“Why are you alone?” Javier asks as he sets down the plate on the kitchen island. Andrea slept off the annoyance she developed from her mother and brothers yearly antics. Each thanksgiving, the two of them, just the two of them, go out to eat. They call it their mother son day of the year, when Andrea was young she was left with her nanny who took it upon herself to take little Andrea to a movie each thanksgiving. But Andrea was no longer little and the tradition continued, so the past 3 thanksgivings had been spent alone. It was routine to her, she wasn't sure if she was ready to understand her mothers ways just yet.

This Thanksgiving fell on Andrea’s fathers birthday, it's all she knew about him. His birthday and name. Lucas, November 24th. One complicated parent a time, she didn’t dwell this thanksgiving but she’d be a liar if she said she hadn't felt like she was on the verge of tears the entire day. 

Andrea peels open the wet aluminum, oh lordy I am thankful, thank you Chucho… for this food, Andrea looks up at Javier who had been staring at her with such contentment, and thank you for making the adonis that watches me now. Grabbing a fork Andrea answers, “My mom does something with Frankie every thanksgiving so I’m left here! God this looks amazing.” She drags her fork at the slab of pork, and it pulls so beautifully she could cry. Javier pulls the plate away from her. “Hey!”

“Is this every thanksgiving?” He asks, shielding the plate with his arm to get her to answer. 

She didn't care, “Yes, now move.” Andrea pinches his wrist and he slowly pulls his hand back to his side. Shoveling the pernil in her mouth with an excited mumble. Javi stays silent for her first few bites, just watching Andrea stuff herself. She was so hungry she couldn't bother looking at him. But then he sits next to her and gets a fork for himself and begins eating off the plate with her. 

Cheeks bulging with arroz con gandules, her eyes brighten and she smiles. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She says with a full mouth, to anyone it would be a gross act but Javier had thought it was the most endearing sight ever.

“Happy thanksgiving Andrea.” 

They eat together in silence.

Javier leaves with his heart beating fast in his chest, his stomach turning in the worst way. He looks at his father in the driver's seat, Chucho rolls down the window. “What took you so long!?”

Javier shook his head, not wanting to risk shouting what he discovered at the lawn of Andrea’s home. He shoots his head over his shoulder to take one more look at the house that contained just Andrea inside. 

Running a hand through his hair, Javier opens his fathers truck door and settles in. That feeling, that hole in his chest still in full effect.  “Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.” He says it, his chest rises and falls. Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.

Thanksgiving 1979

Andrea spends it alone again. Javier sat with his uncle, and dad in Houston, feeling awful homesick. Javier filled out the scholarship to the High School of Law and Justice in March and got free tuition for the upcoming year in late August, he had no time to really tell Andrea. Chucho traveled north for the holidays. Cooking for his helpless little brother who had Javier living off cafeteria lunch and ramen. The house smelled delightful and it truly felt like the holidays, even if he wasn't really home. During grace, with his hand resting on his fathers shoulder, in a warm room filled with home cooked food and love, he realizes she’s likely napping again. Probably sleeping to fizzle out hunger and loneliness.

Javi struggles to enjoy his food.

Homecoming 1979

Homecoming sure felt like a holiday in Laredo, at least within the halls of the school. The week had been full of underage drinking each night, pranks, and defacing the rival schools flag. Andrea couldn’t be bothered with the festivities, she just cared that senior Brian Flores who asked her to the dance. Now she could use this as an excuse to be pretty and maybe, maybe get her first kiss. She attended the game, and met Lorraine face to face for the very first time. Andrea attempted to bite back the jealousy buttering her tongue, and she surely took it out on Javier when he asked to talk after the game. Asking her all these questions that made her feel, for just a second, that he wants to be near her as much as she wants to be near him. 

Then he called her kid, and Andrea felt winded at the blow. 

“Next time I’ll think twice before I invite my best friend's kid sister to hang out. I apologize for trying to be polite and include you, god knows you used to whine about being left out.” 

Javi had distracted her from the handsome boy clad in shoulder pads who asked if she was okay, she couldn't even bask in the feeling because immediately Javier switched to protector mode. With a furrowed brow his eyes darted from Andrea to the grown man attempting to court her, and oh it settled something deep in his stomach he was unprepared to talk about. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?”

After a mini tangent and a few curses about him being far too old for her, Javi in a fit of protectiveness asked Andrea just to go with him. His brain completely abandons the thought of his unofficial girlfriend Lorraine. When he watches Andrea’s eyes twinkle for one second, he is reminded of the girl he had spent the last few weeks witj and the feelings he truly felt for the Lor. He wanted to be Lorraine’s boyfriend, he was tired of sneaking around–homecoming would have been his perfect opportunity to just go steady with the girl he had a crush on. 

 “Please stop acting like you care, I don't feel left out anymore. I have my own friends and life now. You guys only had me around because my mom made you, cus’ i couldn't make friends but obviously-Obviously I’m doing better now, so just please leave me alone” With that all thoughts of anyone but Andrea clears, only panic fills his chest when he watches someone who had never been upset with him, someone who had always been eager to spend time with, reminds him that things have changed and she becomes someone who wants to be left alone. 

Andrea heads home and sleeps well, she glances over at the dress she picked out and strangely the twisting jealousy and betrayal she felt from Javier fizzled at the thought of being appreciated by someone who actually likes her. Not so bad for a freshman, she thinks. She dozes off and dreams of Javier. She dreams she accepts his invite–even if it was offered in a white hot moment. In her brain she wears something entirely different and dances with him in their school gym. It’s decorated much more beautifully than she anticipated, but her brain paints it perfect just for them. Javier doesn’t make a move on her the entire night of the dance, it wasn’t his style. When the two decide it’s time to go, he kisses her gently and slowly against the brick walls of the gymnasium. Heart in her throat, she grips to the lapels of his blazer, pointing her foot in a beautiful disney first kiss. What a lovely dream it was, maybe that’s why she feels well rested the next day. 

She gets ready with an empty house, Frankie spent the night at Genie’s, again, a photo of Sharon Tate taped to her mirror. Eyes squinted as she messes up with powdered eyeliner for the… eighth time. The guitar riff in Marmalade’s I See the Rain bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. She pats down the wrinkles on the pale yellow dress. Her chest still not quite filling the thing but the built in lace shawl like jacket covers her modestly. Melissa had found too many of the short dresses too grown for a freshman. Andrea’s eyes flick up to her own, then down to her lips. She liked those, pinching her lips together her eyes narrow attempting to give her reflection a sexy pre kiss smolder. Her nose turns up in a cringe. Stomach flipping, will Brian kiss with tongue? He’s seventeen, god, he will for sure. Her eyes survey the room, she is alone… her mom got out of work at 9 pm. Frankie had no intention of coming home until tomorrow.

Screw it.

Andrea bunches her hand, her thumb lapping her pointer. She brings her hand to her lips and attempts to emulate what she thinks a kiss should look like. Her eyes close for just a moment when she feels a rhythm that feels right, hmm this doesn't seem too bad. Hopefully his breath doesn't smell like punch–

“Andrea-what the fu-”

She squeals at the top of her lungs when her eyes fall on a hurried suit clad Javier. Her wet hand is covered in Avon’s ripe cherry lipstick. “Ah! Oh my god.” It's her worst nightmare, her none kissed hand wiping the other while Javier stares with confusion and a hint of amusement. “What-how-why–how did you get in here?!” She yells, jumping to her feet. Javier tugs at his bow tie and stares at her hand for a moment, eliciting an ahem from her throat. His cheeks hint a blush. 

“Door was unlocked.” He stated flatly. Andrea blinks a few times, her lashes still wet with mascara, was he really here or had she kept dreaming.

He was just as nervous, as he got ready in the morning he wavered his options. He goes to homecoming and tells her while she’s there with her prick of a date, he tells her everything. He shook his head at that, he knew that could be a mess, it could create a scene. Javier crossed that off the list, he thought of just calling, he let that idea go too. As he crouched down to tighten his dress shoes his eyes caught a glimpse of the dusty space below his dresser, a white border poking out into view.

Javier leaned forward and pulled the thing out from under his dresser. There Andrea is, her hair long and braided, her classic teal bike to her left. To her right is Javi with his arm slung over her shoulders. With a sting in his eye and heart beating in his throat, Javier ran all the way to her, to Andrea. 

So without warning to Lorraine, Javier lays it all out. 

“You can't go to homecoming.” 

Andrea rolls her eyes, “Javi I’m tired of this weird protector complex you’ve developed, but I’m fifteen now I-”

“I won't let you go because that douchebag is being paid to take you, being paid double if he kisses you and triple if he fucks you.” He says it so rushed, just to get her to zip it. He saves Andrea in a sense, she was ready to spill some cliche lines that will have her cringing in t-minus six hours. The urgency was useful only in that facet, because then it hist Andrea all at once. Her eyes fall to the floor, heart dancing in her chest. How could I have been so blind. She knew of the senior bucket list, she knew, yet–

“Oh.” Her eyes screw shut for a moment, really hoping this was a dream. My god was she humiliated. She bought a dress, taped magazine clippings, painted her nails, kissed her hand and pushed Javier away for nothing. For someone to plan to use her for a checkmark on a list, she felt like a total idiot. Javi must think I look so stupid, Andrea thinks. Here in the middle of her room practicing kissing in an over priced dress. And despite her efforts to prove to Javi that she is in fact mature and strong and no longer in need of acceptance, her chin begins to quiver in the same way it did when she was just a kid. Her eyes blurry, she doesn’t even realize Javier is walking over to her with a soft pleading voice. Makeup ruined already, his hand grips her shoulder and instinctively she reaches out to grip his wrist. He’s frantically trying to get her stop crying but she just felt so embarrassed, crying is the only thing distracting from that pain in her chest. He’s whispering promises, 

Andrea please stop crying

I’ll stay here or-or we can go together 

We can stay in—watch something

We can egg his car—please stop crying. 

Shaking her head, her fingers dig into his wrist and he takes it as a sign to gather her up. Pulling Andrea into his chest, she knows her mascara tears must be staining his tux yet he couldn’t seem to care. The ache in his own chest settling the second he flattens a hand on the back of her head. Cheek resting on the top of her head. Andrea leans her entire body weight into the embrace, absolutely exhausted of being the joke, of being a pawn. Tired of being behind and naive. Javier tucks her head below his chin, resting on the top of her head. And oh boy is he in trouble because he hadn't thought of Lorraine, not even once. 

Despite the circles she’s talked herself into about her need to be self reliant—god did it feel good to just be hugged. 

With a squeeze to Andrea’s hip she pulls back, her eyes in all their raccoon glory, somehow she was still so beautiful. "Let’s go downstairs and watch something. Then we can flip through the yellow pages and sign the bastard up for the most incessant and embarrassing subscription with his home phone. How does Cat Scratch sex line sound?” Javier suggests. Just there, she feels it again, Am I too young to feel this much?

Through tears and smudged makeup, her lips quirk at its corners. 

“Okay.”

Christmas 1979

Christmas at the Diaz house wasn’t actually so bad. On the eve of christmas Melissa sets out all of the presents she’s bought her kids, then in the corner of her room lays a second pile of gifts for the people of Laredo that she’s made her family. Then she dresses her children, yes, even at their old age, in outfits she bought. The three take a drive to their church’s party and it goes the same way each year. The Smithfield’s lead a prayer, they play their mix of american christmas classics and spanish ones, then they regret serving alcohol at their christmas party. 

Two days before the party half of their christmas lights fall and in a fit of anger Melissa calls over Chucho to bring his latter and fix the damn thing. It must be genetic because when the Diaz women call, the Peña men come running. To Andrea’s surprise Javier shows up with his father. The group of friends watch the disaster that is Melissa Diaz with Holiday anxiety. 

Melissa stands at the foot of a ladder while Chucho puts up her lights. “A la derecha!” She yells from below, Frankie, Javier and Andrea sit on the lawn watching in amusement. It was chillier, a low fifty, it became Andreas' excuse to wear her lacrosse sweatshirt. Her brother and Javier joke about something that happened in school, something she didn’t witness. So she picks at the grass surrounding her and looks off at the two geezers arguing with each other in Spanish. Nat King Cole and Celia Cruz blasting from inside their house, windows open and in the December sunset their christmas tree twinkles beyond the window. 

Andrea decides maybe she likes Christmas with her family, with this family. 

She decides to take that statement back when her mother forces her to run the boutique from opening till closing on Christmas eve. Andrea stands behind the cash register wearing a headband with twirly attachments that jingled with each slight movement. If she hears happy holidays one more time she’ll kill Santa Claus herself. So it’s safe to say that when she locks up shop with a daily sale of five thousand dollars, she couldn’t be bothered with seeing half of Laredo in the church basement. 

Somehow Andrea finds herself in a stockings and a puffy green dress. She is half asleep by the time she spots the black leather couch at the farthest corner of the large basement. The basement of Los Tres Reyes church was the home of many parties. Many that could be considered non-fitting for a church but to most it was simply just a venue. Considering Lorraine’s father was the english mass pastor and his daughter was the most admired girl at the school, Mr. Smithfield held the Laredo Christmas party-invite only. Contrary to most parties at Los Tres Reyes, the Smithfield Christmas extravaganza (nice dresses and day drinking) was exclusive in Laredo terms. 

Lorraine was suited in the prettiest outfit in the room. Too fashionable for this town, plaid flared pants and a cashmere turtleneck. Andrea wants to groan at the silly dress her mom forced her into… and she was so tired. The party began to fill with the most prestigious faces of town, mostly store owners and Lorraine’s friends. Flashes fake smiles at each wave and struggling to stay awake the second she sits down. The familiar crunch of the couch with the sound of the tool of her skirt created a new strange ear splitting sound that has Andrea cringing. Legs crossed she wondered how many feet of tinsel they used for the ceiling. 

Fleshy nylon rubbing together with each leg-crossed readjustment. God she wished she had a magazine or something to not look so socially awkward in a setting like this. Deep inside Andrea was praying for Monica or Liandra to show up and save the day. She knew Javier was on his way, she knew she couldn’t bear the sight of the couple, especially how romantic it is to spend Christmas with your girlfriend’s family. Frankie was talking off Genie’s dad’s ear while nursing a beer. 

With the Ronetts playing on speaker and the bustling chatter, Andrea finds it awfully easy to drift off. Head falling back against the rest of the sofa. 

“My god she’s really sleeping.” Melissa whispers to Chucho about nearly four hours into the party. Eleven pm, nearly Christmas day. “Señor dame fuerza…” Her head falls into her hands while Chucho watches Andreas' fully laid out body in amusement. Her flats fully kicked off and her cheek squished to the leather. 

The Peñas arrive quite late to the party. Lorraine dragged Javier to the church bathroom to scold him for embarrassing her. He kissed her hoping it’ll soften her up but she slapped his arm instead. “Don’t be mad please.” He pleads as she opens the restroom door. Lorraine looks over her shoulder with a frown. 

With a snapping attitude and sarcasm, “Nice sweater.” 

Javier looks down at the thing, his face softening at the sight of his own sweater that his uncle knitted himself. It’s a thick gray cable knit sweater. For a moment Javier wonders why he lets these things slide from Lorraine, just a few weeks before he nearly broke it off after her intrusive suggestion on how to get over his mothers absence. 

Javi decides he’ll just drink tonight. 

With his hands shoved in his nice jeans, the pants Chucho bought two years ago for him to be forced into every holiday. His keys in his back pocket jangling as he walks down the stairs to a slowly dying party as the night closes. The lights around twinkling and the smell of clove and cinnamon filling his nose. He passes two girls in Lorraine’s friend group, Hilda and Diana. “Do you think she’s drunk?”

“I don’t know, but it’s tragic.” Hilda giggles, sipping her beer. Both their eyes planted on Andrea, in all her Christmas tree glory. Surrounded by her large green dress, socked feet curled and the most peaceful face he’s ever seen. His brows knit together, it was unlike her to fall asleep in a place like this. He shoots a glare over at the two girls and walks straight past them, straight to her. He grabs a cracker crown from one of the tables. Ignoring Lorraine’s call as he makes his way next to Andrea.

For a moment he feels watched, a bit insecure as he surveys the room as people pretend to not stare at the two. He frowns before wrapping his hand around her ankle and shaking her awake. She stirs slightly but just furthers herself into comfortability. He drops his head in an endearing smile. “Andrea.” He calls to her and she jolts at the sound of his voice.

Her smooth nylon clad feet brushing over his lap, causing a flip in his stomach. Something stranger happens in his christmas jeans.  “Oh!” She chirped, wiping her mouth clean of drool. “Javi!” 

“Andrea.” He laughs moving her small feet from his lap. Leaning forward and placing the gold crown on her disheveled hair. She giggles slightly, and blinks her eyes into full awareness. 

“Did I really fall asleep? What time is it?” She flattens her shimmery skirt. He just knows Melissa picked out the dress. He remembers the second summer they spent together, when her style changed completely. He knew she got her mother to back off on the kids catalogs, it seemed she still held higher ground when it came to christmas attire. Despite the forest pooling her body, to him she might have been the prettiest girl in the room, he should ask Santa Claus for a smack upside his head because the selfish thought came quickly and stuck like glue. Her shimmering eyes glance at the clock, fifteen to twelve. “Jesus!” She slaps her hand over her mouth at the decision to call the man out on his name, on his birthday and in a church. “I slept for so long.”

Javier chuckles a hearty laugh, “Yeah, decided to save you some embarrassment, you got quite comfortable.” His eyes fall to her feet. She burns mistletoe bow red and shoves them back into her flats. Still sitting up straight tenser than ever, and it aches his chest. He had her over just a week before, they joked around together in his house over dinner–he invited her to New Years at the bar. Two months before that the two sat awfully close on her couch watching Star Wars: A New Hope and signing up her one time homecoming date to awfully embarrassing subscriptions, using different personas and voices on the phone. Yet here, under everyone's surveillance she sat uptight and all frowning like she was afraid of being under the gaze of others. That drove him a bit crazy, she was his best friend too, hadn't she known?

Silence falls between them for a moment as he nurses his beer and she looks off, her mind running wild.

“You treat me differently when it’s not summer.” He blurts, bringing his drink to his lips. He knows why, he knows deep inside. Their summers together were organic, devoid of outside influences. She could just exist as Andrea, his Andrea. In summer she could just fall asleep on a couch and not have to worry about judging eyes. She could crush on Javier without guilt and restraint. He could call her pretty and not feel like the entire world is watching, prepared to scrutinize him. It was warm, it was easy to be close to one another, easy to ignore what others felt about them. Summers were just for them. It stirred something devastating in the cavity of his chest at the sight of her in a sweaty dress, with her hair done up and perfect posture. It wasn't her, it wasn't like her to be so afraid of him. 

Her lips quirk in a polite fake smile, as her eyes survey the room. She’s extremely aware of the eyes on the two of them. Javier’s jaw clenched at the sight of Andrea of all people being fake to him. She clears her throat like he asked her a scandalous question. Then she turns to him all at once and he swears under her makeup he sees a hint of the freckles that deepen under the Texas sun, and her features fall all sincere, like he’s the only person in the room. 

And she whispers, “Well maybe I don’t know how to be your friend in the winter.” Her eyes drop and her forehead forms that tiny crease of worry between painted brows. Javier’s stomach pits and maybe the holidays made him feel sentimental, maybe he’s afraid that being in the same school will somehow create a wedge in something he cherishes so deeply, maybe he feels like strangely time is running out. Perhaps he regrets meeting Lorraine at this time. It’s something about being surrounded by love, warmth and home cooked meals. Something about the sounds of chimes, organs and jingle bells in the music filling the air. Something about spending Christmas eve next to Andrea Diaz, something about not being able to kiss her under the mistletoe. Maybe because it actually snowed in Texas this Christmas, small flurries that didn’t stick–but snow nonetheless. He’s never had the urge to before but her, in front of him, at this time, with those eyes–he wonders what he’s doing wrong. 

With his heart in his throat he can only muster out one thing. 

“Merry Christmas.”

Christmas 1980-85

Houston isn't home. The holidays become a brain splitting headache he ignores for years to come. He's no longer seventeen. He had one holiday with her, and it wasn’t really with her, yet he can't imagine having one without her.

What a scary feeling.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 24

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.7k

IMPORTANT a/n: I've got no explanation this time, school and work just have been beating my ass. But this is the last chapter of the second part of this series. There's going to be a... different stylistic change next chapter. Things are um... not going to be as peaches and cream. Don't start the Mari witch hunt... i'm sorry in advance....

Enjoy

Masterlist

You cried after sex for the first time with Javi tonight. He fucked you roughly into his mattress, bit your shoulder and kissed you. He looked at the clock and stood up from the bed after finishing on your sheets. Watching him begin to leave made you heave. You start to sob with you face pressed into the pillow. He damn near tripped over his shoes rushing back to the bed. 

You couldn’t explain it to him, he was panicked. 

What did I do?

Did it hurt?

Andrea, please talk to me. 

Hey, hey—I’m not leaving, I was getting you a towel—

Baby, please you’re scaring me. 

He presses his thumb across your cheek collecting your tears. His eyes are wild, blown out and concerned. 

Your first question scares him. You didn’t mean to, it was only a segway. 

“Do we have too much sex?” You pant, warm tears still falling. Javi swallows hard, you could nearly feel his heart beat at the pad of his thumb while strokes your face. 

It’s Friday night. 

The week had been good. Great even. After your little lake day you and Javier decided to no longer be apart. You biked home that night and snuck him into your room. He ate you out, the sun had you beat and you fell asleep immediately after. He is learning how to sneak out quietly. That was wednesday. 

On Thursday, you decided to go to the public library. You had some lessons for the second session of summer school to get done and you wanted him around. 

He was very good. Silent and reading while you chewed your pen cap. You caught him doing more staring than reading but you couldn’t mind. You’d just smile and go back to your work. 

When you were done the two of you strolled the aisles of Laredo Public Library, picking books for each other. You spot Neruda in the poetry section and you silently squeal. Getting up on your tiptoes to reach when you’re lifted off your feet. Javier lifts you to the top row and you let out a cackle deserving of a shhh from the ancient librarian. 

He behaved well, until you were driving home and he took you from behind in the back seat of his truck. 

He kisses you sweetly, tells you he loves you and drives you home.

He finds himself in your bed once more, this friday night. You know he should leave soon, tomorrow morning is the wedding. You hadn’t anticipated breaking down in this way. You need all of the rest you can get, god knows Melissa will be raising hell at 9 am. It was only ten when you asked Javier the question. 

“Uh— No—yes? Please tell me why you’re still crying.” 

You sigh, “I’m… sorry.”

“Why? Should we turn it down? Am I being too much-“

You scrunch your face and turn your head into his hand. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start this conversation, crying and asking him if their sex is too much. Strangely you felt too scared to tell him. “God no! I was just…” You choke on your own words. “Nevermind.” 

“Nope—nope, none of that querida.” Javier pushes your hair back out of your face, you close your eyes surrounded by his warmth. You could die here you fear. You can’t believe you’re here—there, in his arms like it’s nothing. 

You think of Xavier. Xavier made you cry. 

“This is my first sexual relationship where I’m like not sighing and bracing myself before you touch me. It was like that with Xavier, I’d disassociate while we had sex. It was okay at the beginning because I suppose I somehow liked him, but then he just got fucking mean.” You picture him, what he looked like in high school. The dirty blonde, blue eyed jaw clenched soccer player. You wouldn’t guess he was hispanic in a million years, he seemed to be so distant from his culture, you tried to understand but you just didn’t get how—it bothered you, his ignorance. You somehow looked past it all, he kissed you sweetly before class. You hadn’t been kissed sober since Javier by that point. You were easily molded. “I don’t know why I’m talking about this, I'm sorry.” You rub your eyes, you know Javier could be a jealous lover. You didn’t want to bicker over details of your previous relationships. 

“Andrea, just talk to me. Tell me about him. I’ve told you plenty about her.” 

Lorraine, you’ll face her tomorrow. You fear you might chew her head off, or maybe she’ll claw your eyes out. No mimosas tomorrow, or else it’ll get messy. 

You suddenly feel a wave of tears threatening behind your eyes, burning. Somehow you begin to ramble while he watches, stroking and caressing your face.

“He asked me out at a beach in Corpus Christi,  it was my idea of romance back then. I suppose I just wanted to be liked by someone. We dated for almost two years, you know? I sort of enjoyed our time together. When we were just sitting around watching tv, making fun of episodes of Dynasty. Then he’d touch me and I would dread it every time. Like my whole body would just leave, and somehow I’d end up on my back. I don’t think I ever felt violated or anything like that, he was just cold during sex and selfish. One time he got rough out of nowhere, and I got really excited, like yes, you’re trying something new. Those times when he’d be rough, it didn’t feel like him so I would enjoy myself. I finished, once. And I was so sensitive after, I wanted to cuddle and kiss him, thank him. But I remember he just bit my shoulder and got up to leave. Without cleaning me, I was seventeen. I started to cry, I would cry every time he left afterward” You were sobbing. You remember it all, you remember the feeling of being fucked and left, and the gaping hole it left in your heart. “I wasn’t even crying because I didn’t want him to leave, I didn’t want anyone to leave me. And they had, I thought I moved on from that. You’ve rushed out of my room plenty of times.” You hiccup, “I just got really sad today, I’m sorry I ruined our sex.” 

Javier looks down at you, your head leaning against his knee. The light in your bedroom casting him an orange glow, his brow quivered and he shook his head, stroking your hair once more. 

“I love you.”

It hurts to hear, “I know. I love you t-“

“No- I love you and I can’t bear to watch you like this. You can never ruin anything, please never apologize to me for something so silly. Please Andrea.” He slides down to lay with you again. You begin to cry harder. 

“I need to get help. I have severe abandonment issues.” 

You’ve known it deep inside, you’ve been too afraid to say it. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you wanted Javier to be enough to fix you. But even though he soothes the pain so well, there’s too many layers to ignore just because he’s here right now. 

It’s silent for a beat. He just breathes and nods, you fill his chin at the top of your head. 

“I do too.”

“You don’t have to say it to make me feel better.” 

He’s perfect, how could he ever need help-“I’m turning into my mother, the past few years have been self destructive decisions. I’m aware of it so much that it makes me ill. I threw up on Tuesday because I saw my departure date circled on my calendar.”

Now you’re silent.

“Yeah we need help.”

“God bless our therapists.”

Genie had other friends. Three other girls crowded your kitchen island downing fruity cold drinks clad in flowy yellow gowns. You decline the lounging and giggling, you rather keep Genie company. She requested no bridesmaids during hair and makeup—just come up when I’m in my gown—you figured you were an exception. And you were because she beamed the second you walked into the room. 

She was alone in a white slip, her face painted so beautifully and her brown locks pulled into a  decorated bun. You prepped your room for powdering and pampering, cleaning at the crack of dawn after your night with Javier. Genie sat on a lush chair by the window facing the backyard. You could hear the bustle of workers putting their final touches. 

“You look so pretty my love.” Genie grins. 

Your eyes widen at her compliment, she beat you to it. You suppose you were lucky that she wasn’t one of those bridezillas that wanted her bridesmaids to suffer in puffy dresses, to ensure the idea of always the bridesmaid and never the bride or what not. 

Instead she allowed the four of you to pick dresses as long as they were A. Pale Yellow, and B. Bohemian. You weren’t afraid to admit that your little childhood friend group seemed to be stuck in 1975 fashion, your icons were Stevie Nicks not Madonna! 

“Me, look at you. I-“ Tears well in your eyes and she isn’t even in her gown yet. It was rare, a thing like this. To not have to adjust to a new love in your brother's life. You felt if they ever broke up you would make Frankie’s life a living hell because there was absolutely no way you were staying away from Genevieve. The only person who rubbed your back when you cried during those six years, the first person at your bedside when it ended with Xavier and now there she is, about to marry your brother giving you a niece—giving you an older sister. “I’m just so happy it’s you—that you’re my family.” 

Your voice cracks and your period is definitely approaching. She frowns with a wiggling chin as she stands to pull you in. “Te quiero, de verdad, Andrea. Soy una mujer afortunada.” She whispers and she smells like she did in high school, an amber warm scent that comforted you but a smell so familiar you can—-

“Are you wearing the perfume you would spray Javier’s basement with after we smoked?” You laugh through tears.

“Yes!”

The two of you sat for a bit, rambling on about everything but the ceremony in four hours. She rubbed her stomach frequently, stretching her legs out on your bed like a cat getting prepared to nap. You knew her other bridesmaids slightly. Two of them were her employees at her first salon, Harrietta and Wilma. The third was her cousin who flew in from California, Olivia. Still, she chose you to be her maid of honor. 

“Are you prepared?” You ask finally, she looks at you and pauses her belly rubs. Genie giggles and blows a raspberry, with a head shake. 

“Thinking about it makes me so nervous and it upsets her…” She taps her belly. 

You nod again, sipping your water before glancing down at the yard through your window. It was slightly less hectic, you spotted your mother straightening a seat. She was clad in a float blue gown. You can’t help but wonder if she would put this much effort into your wedding one day. The thought makes your lips quirk in a frown. “Have you practiced your vows?”

“Let’s talk about something else, I do not want to sweat my blowout.” She was nervous, pale as a ghost, you suppose in your gaze out the window you hadn’t noticed just how anxious this topic was making her. Your eyes widen and you place your cup down. Unsure what to even talk about. 

“Right uhm—“

“Is Javier treating you well?” She cuts, reaching over to your bedside table and getting ahold of the church fans your mother placed on each seat. It was eighty five degrees out. Your cheeks go crimson, will you ever get used to someone knowing? 

“Yeah… I don’t know… he always has, somehow he’s better in a relationship.” 

“Be honest, have you guys had sex here?” She points at the bed she’s lying in. Your eyes double in size and you cover your face. But this is how it was with the two of you, she’d press about your sex life, you’d tell her, you’d giggle like schoolgirls then she’ll attempt to tell you about hers and you nearly vomit because of the circumstances in which her sex life occurs. 

“Yes! Often too… You know I struggled with sex before Javi.”

She frowns, she heard all about it during your monthly sister in law sleepovers when you were still in high school. Genie tried so hard to encourage you to demand what you needed out of Xavier. “Yeah… I know.” She rubs the sheets beside her and you wince. 

“Ew don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” She retracts her hands and folds them in her lap with a chuckle. “Not for nothing but If you would have told me earlier I could have rescinded the invite to Lorraine.” 

It was your turn to be avoidant. 

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Fair.” 

It’s silent again and all you could do is sip your water and worry about seeing Lorraine face to face after so many years.  

“Has he told you he loves you?” Genevieve asks, lying on her side now, propped up with her chin in her palm. Your lips quirk in a smile and you stare at the bottom of your gown. 

“He has.” You sigh when you think of what this must look like to outsiders. Andrea goes back to Javier after everything, “I think he means it.” You wonder why it scares you to be loved so much. You think being loved might sever you in two, it’s starting, you aren’t sure what to do now. 

She stands at that, and wraps her arms around your shoulders while you sit. “I know he does, he has forever. We’ve seen it, it pisses your brother off, sure, but it can’t be denied. Hopefully in a few years I’ll be talking you down while you’re laid in a wedding dress. He’ll be nervous next door.” She kisses the top of your head. You tremble at the thought. You can’t think about that now. 

“One wedding at a time, let’s get you in your dress.” You jump to your feet and walk toward the white dress hung up on your dresser door. Unzipping the white plastic. Genie stands too. 

“Right! Right. But I'll be your maid of honor, right?”

Your brows furrow and you snap your head over your shoulder. 

“Bitch please.”

You loved Javier in a suit. Luckily for you his career allowed him to be formal a lot of the time he snuck into your room at night, but this suit was reminiscent of prom and you grin. 

“Hi.” You smile up at him, surveying your surroundings. It was nearly your cue to walk out together, behind you were the three other bridesmaids and your brothers three other groomsmen. Friends he met at work that you never bothered getting to know. They were standing side to side with the girls. Javier clenches his jaw and looks at the chattering groups behind the two of you. He looks annoyed by the presence of the groomsmen. You shake your head, it was so like Javier. “Have you even tried… to befriend your wedding companions?” 

Javi furrows his brows and looks back at you then softens immediately. He grunts, “Nope, red head over there joked about asking you out tonight. Who the fuck are these guys?” He cranes his head to level with you. You loved when he did that, feeling guarded and protected by his presence even when it wasn’t necessary. 

You flatten the lapels of his crisp suit with a little tight lipped smile. “Friends Frankie had to make when you were gone because it came out that you were actually his only friend.” 

“Ah.”

“Think I got a chance with Charles?” You joke, tugging on his suit jacket once more. Javier’s face drops and his mustache twitches into a firm frown. His big puppy dog eyes make you never want to tease him ever again. 

“Maybe, Wilma offered to cut my hair for free when I was serving Frankie some scotch earlier-“

“Okay enough of this game.” You snap, your face turning hot. He puts on that stupid smug smile and nods a truce. The two of you face forward shoulder to shoulder, the music begins and you know you must count to twenty before the doors open. 

Javier offers you an arm. You slap his behind before intertwining. 

“You’re gross.”

“You love me gross.” You giggle, squeezing his bicep. The doors open and you walk out to your backyard. The entirety of Laredo were at their feet smiling at the two of you. Javier leans in your ear and whispers, “Hmm yeah, you look beautiful in yellow but I rather see you in white.” 

And the two of you walk down the aisle and you hope it isn’t your last time. 

Genie loved drama. Well, no. Genie loved being the drama. You silently cried the entire time they exchanged their vows. Why Genie decided to have her wedding three days before your cycle begins is beyond you. The vows were very much Genie, with some censoring. She promised your mother that she won’t be vulgar, she already went against Melissa’s wishes when she said she rather have the ceremony and reception at home instead of the ceremony at church. 

The entire backyard erupted in cheers when she made a comment about being so grateful to be starting a family with Frankie. Somehow you forgot that only your small circle knew. Genies ninety-one year old grandmother jumped to her feet in happiness. 

It was surely safe to say that your brother's wedding reception ranked high on the happiest you’ve ever felt. When the officiant granted them their first kiss as a married couple Genie of course pinched his behind causing your mother to gasp and everyone in their seats to giggle. Most importantly your brother smiled brightly against his wife’s lips. 

The cocktail party was in your front yard, half an hour while they set up the backyard once more to fit all guests. It was the duty of the direct family of the groom and bride to scurry around and set up. So you and Javier did just that. Folding white chairs and loading them in the van. Centering flowers on tables. Picking up fallen name cards. 

 Once the sun began to set, the guests walked through the pathway leading to your backyard and found their places. And the live mariachi arrived. You let out a huff when you were finally able to sit down, Javier groaned at the bend of his knees. 

“I’m going to need sixteen hours of sleep after this.” He says, picking up his beer and sipping. The scene was oddly similar to Liandras quince. You laugh, taking your own beer and following suit. You glance over to the Bride and Grooms table, decorated more elegantly and intentionally. They were beaming, swaying back and forth while talking to each other. The kids of town dancing and running around, kicking balloons in the air and not letting it drop. “We should get a hotel tonight.” He whispers against your shoulder. You side eye him and smirk, pinching his thigh. 

“Yeah, we should.” Your eyes scan the crowd once more, landing on a table in the far right corner of the party. Mr. and Mrs. Smithfield, clad in light blue. And right next to them, sitting in silence, Lorraine. Your eyes widen at the sight of her for the first time in nearly seven years. Her hair a darker shade of blonde, pin straight. Her eyes land on you. Although you feel your heart drop you still offer a small smile. 

She rejects the gesture, eyes darted between you and Javier, and peels her eyes alway with a straight face. 

You frown and look at Javier. “I just saw Lorraine.” He frowns just the same, placing his hand on yours while it rested on the table. The touch burned straight through you. Removing your hand and placing it back into your lap. You couldn’t dare to look at him while you just retracted at his touch. But you could feel his body tensing beside you. You want to apologize for your reaction but you just can’t. You tried to avoid the idea of Lorraine coming back home, but now it’s here and the guilt is climbing up your throat and making your cheeks burn. And now you’ve made Javier upset. He takes another sip of his drink.

 The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes while you panic. She knows. It took her one glance to read you, read your body language. You feel sick, and you know that technically you didn’t do anything wrong but you were once her friend. Yet on the same coin  you also know that she mistreated him.

So why does this feel so bad? 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You blurt, standing from your chair. Javier places his beer down loud enough for you to hear, he’s upset with you. He is. Your heart contracts in your chest.

He stands alongside you, “Well I do too.” He says in a tone so deep you know you’re going to get your ass handed to you. You want to pinch yourself because his anger makes your  cunt clench around nothing. You figure that you want to be chased by him. Captured, maybe he’ll fuck you in the bathroom and it’ll teach you a lesson. 

Still, there’s guilt in that thought. You won’t allow it, not when you’re feeling this way. “Javier we aren’t doing this-“

“Don’t make a scene.” He demands once more and you’re already walking towards the house, and he’s following you. The party was too busy to notice the interaction. You swing the screen door open without holding it for him, it nearly swings back in his face but he slams it wide open. 

You look over your shoulder at him as he trails behind you with a furrow in his brow. A jaw clenched. “I really do have to pee.” You say, the house empty besides the caterers, you had figured people would be trickling in and out considering your home bathroom was the only one for this event. A slight oversight on your mother’s behalf. 

“I don’t give a shit.” He grumbles and the two of you stumble into the bathroom. 

You sigh and glance at him while he stands with arms crossed at the door. Studying your every move. You lift the bottom of your dress and tuck it under your chin while you attempt to pull your panties down to pee. Javier shakes his head and strides towards you, holding your dress up from the back. You shut your eyes, “This is embarrassing and gross I can do this myself.”

He keeps a straight face, “I can’t even help you now? Now I'm embarrassing you?” 

You shoot him an annoyed glance, “Peeing is private.”

He grunts, you know slightly that you’re being ridiculous. You know he’d quite literally do anything to help you even if it’s as small as holding up your expensive dress while you peed. You shake your head and do your business quickly, wiping yourself with cheeks hot. “Why are you upset with me?” He asks while you pull your panties back on. 

He drops your dress as you stand a foot away from the toilet, he gets on one knee fixing the lining of your bridesmaid dress. God damn it, this boy was a dream. He stands once again with a grunt. Viejo, you want to say. You move past him without a response and stand in front of the mirror, beginning to wash your hands. “Andrea.”

“I wasn’t ready to see Lorraine and she—she knows.” You look at him through the mirror. His hands are crossed, the suit tightening around his arms. You wish you didn’t feel so gross, you’d turn around and drop to your knees, that’s just the sort of mood you’ve been in. 

He doesn’t seem to phased. “Knows…? She knows what?” Still, grumpy, angry. Still sultry and hot. He’s burning into your eyes through the mirror.  

You take a few moments to think, stare at him through glass–make sure he understands how you’re feeling. 

“She knows we’re fucking.” You grip the edge of the sink, he’s so tall behind you. 

He nods, stepping up closer behind you. Hips pinning you against the sink. “Is that what we’re doing? We’re fucking?” He dips his head into your shoulder, your breath gets caught in your throat. Yes, yes, yes. His hands come to your waist and ride up, up, to your breasts. Both palms cover yours completely and then some. He grinds against your ass. 

“Y-yes Javi.” You whimper, you don’t understand how he can turn you on so quickly. He kisses your neck and you watch. He’s craned over you while your neck is tilted, like he’s ready to devour you whole, sink his teeth into you and suck. You watch his hands through the mirror, pull your top down and expose your dark nipples to the fluorescent light of your downstairs bathroom. He pinches your nipples and you moan. 

And in an instant he bends you over the sink, your breasts pressed upon the cold surface. And he grinds into you clothed, “You’re my girlfriend, you understand?” The air is cut out of your throat. He drives again, “We aren’t fucking, okay? We’re together, I’m yours. Tell me you’re mine.” 

You bite your lip, your hair falling over your face. “I’m yours Javi.” You arch your back like a kitten, hoping he’ll pull up your dress and fuck you raw and fast. But he doesn’t, he leans over and stands you up straight, pulling your dress back up. 

“Good, I'm glad we have that all cleared up.”

You’re left panting and wanting a kiss. Wanting to apologize for being so—You shut your brain off and turn to kiss him. Lips pressed to his but his hands don’t move to hold you. 

Your brows furrow and you part, feeling wrong inside. 

“What’s wrong?” Your brows crease, in heels there’s still space to look up at him. 

He turns away from you for a moment, you hope to god what you’re feeling in your chest isn’t the way he felt when you dropped his hand. “I don’t feel good when you talk about us like that. Like we just fuck.”

Oh, your eyes drop to your heels as they stand perfectly in front of his oxfords. You aren’t sure how to apologize about your own insecurity climbing at your throat. But he doesn’t ask you to, instead he places a hand on your cheek, “You know that I love you right?”

The bathroom door swings open and you jump from his touch once more. His hand dropping to his side and your bodies reacting to the intruder. Eyes wide at the sight. 

Lorraine Smithfield. Again, but up close with another red  straight face, in a green dress. Your eyes flick down to her stomach, a small bump protruding and filling the dress. You feel your mouth go dry and you can’t help but look up at Javier. Your stomach is twisting into something sick. Your own face getting beat red at his own brows softening at the sight of his ex-girlfriend carrying a child. 

She just shook her head and turned on the faucet as if you two weren’t caught red handed. Your cheek stings from where he once touched you. “If you want to sneak around at a wedding you should at least lock the door.” She chuckles bitterly, pressing soap into her palms. “Frankie knows you’re feeling up his baby sister Javi?” 

She smirks and looks at the two of you once more. Javier’s nostrils flare, you could feel him counting to ten in his head. 

She’s pregnant. 

Lorraine is pregnant. 

“I’m an adult, don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” You snap, and Lorraine stands up straight, blocking the doorway with crossed arms. She looks between the two of you and chooses to ignore you once more. Like her business was only to zero in on Javier. 

“You talked a lot about Andrea being nothing to you all those years in Houston. Interesting how you switched on me.” Your chin quivers but you keep your face straight, you weren’t going to break in front of Lorraine, of all fucking people. You can’t help but look at her belly bump once more and furrow your brows. What is happening?

“I don’t really feel like talking to you, not when you’re angry. So we’re going to go.” He grabs your hand and you feel the sick instinct to retract again but you let him anyway. 

She hesitates to move before saying one last thing, and this time she looks you in the eye, placing a hand on the swell of her stomach. 

“He keeps you burning for him. Remember where he’ll be in a few months, none of this will matter again. I suggest you get over it Andrea.” 

Your eyes shoot open for a moment while Javier drags you out of the bathroom. You chest constricting and you drop his hand finally. Feeling the same panic you felt last night when you sobbed against your bedsheets. Walking ahead of him with dual intention, being upset and not wanting to look suspicious to the party you’re about to approach. 

“Andrea—“ He grabs your upper arm right before you exit your house. 

“Please, let’s just—talk later or tomorrow.” Your words are hurried and snappy, the apples of your cheeks hot and crimson. You knew you weren’t ready for all of this, you fucking knew it. Javier wasn’t having any of it, he shakes his head. 

“No.” His mustache twitches in a disapproving frown. You scoff with a taste of copper on your tongue making your face screw. 

“No— I’m saying no to you.”

He cuts you off, “We need talk about this now because I know you-“

“If you loved you’d listen to me when I say no. Let me go.”

Let me go. 

He doesn’t bother you the rest of the night, he doesn’t invite you to dance which you didn’t expect considering the optics of it all but sitting in silence side by side made you feel green. And you couldn’t help but think of what it means for Lorraine to be pregnant. You’d hope she wasn’t in a relationship, that poor man should know how bitter she still is. 

You feel bad for her a bit, whoever the father is wasn’t in the picture which was a mortal sin in her family. Preacher's daughter pregnant and unmarried, heavens. 

You can’t help but feel uneasy. You try to smile and enjoy the wedding but Javier’s eyes burn, he’s waiting for you to say something—anything. You pulled the love card, low blow. So you know he has no choice but to give you space to think. It wasn’t like you were jealous but you saw every muscle in his face drop at the sight of her mothering figure. You suppose you’d have a reaction if Xavier came to you with a pregnant girlfriend. 

For a fleeting moment you wonder if his face was something toeing the line of concern-worry. Concern, you understand, is close to love. You were brutally shaken out of the bubble the two of you created in the past week. 

The sun set and you found yourself avoiding the table that the two of you housed. Javier really only shook the hands of those who approached him and asked him in spanish borderline insulting questions about his career. Your mother fortunately was a woman to be feared so once she announced the night was coming to a close the crowd flooded the front lawn, watching Genie climb into Frankie’s Ford Escort with a giggle and struggle to fit the train in the car. Just married chalked on the windows and streamers and cans tied on the bumper. They drove off with beeping horns and cheers. Javier brings his fingers to lips and whistles a splitting one. The married couple had reservations at the nicest hotel an hour out of town. Their tickets to Puerto Rico awaiting them for the next week.

You walk past Javier and head straight to the backyard to close up some chairs , the only person focused on cleaning just yet. Your mother was still doing her part in crowd control at the yard. 

The moon was bright that night, and your feet were killing you. You just wanted to be in bed. Be in bed with him. You know he followed you, you focused on your attempt of cleaning (avoiding him)--in your peripheral you saw him folding chairs a few feet from you. You sigh to yourself, not wanting to talk now but you feel him.You can feel that his anger became sadness. And you can't stand to see him sad. 

He still talks first.

“I got a hotel out of town tonight.” 

You pause standing up straight, looking at him while he corners the table he was dissembling. 

“I’m–I’m going to stay here tonight I think.” 

Javier’s entire face drops, gone ashen under the moonlight. He looks at the grass below him like he’s trying to decipher if all of this is real or not. He nods, “Alright. I’ll see you then?”

You nod, crossing your arms like you're holding your body from its instinct to jump into his arms. You needed to think. “Yeah, goodnight.”

The air is thick between the two of you and he frowns. Placing his hand on your elbow, leaning down to press a warm kiss against your lips, you can’t help but lean back into it. “Goodnight,” He kisses the corner of your lips, “I love you.”

You aren't sure why you freeze but Javier walks right past you before your brain could catch up with your heart. 

You cry holding your stomach, alone in the aftermath of the simplest presentation of love. 

[kirsteng42]

I love this series so, so much. The story is great, Javi is divine (although stressed to hell) Querida is a gorgeous minx and the smut is excellent!!!!!!

Heat Chapter 37: Everything

I’m back-back-back, back again~! 🥴 Pedro’s hosting SNL, dominating media, claiming 2023 as his year, and I’m over here ready for some more Heat, baby 😁

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here’s my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 19,500+

Summary: You’ve been each other’s safe harbor, so when the spectacular circumstances that lead to the end of the Cali cartel’s influence oust everything you have Javi had been looking forward to, can your gravitation survive the fallout of events?

Warnings: Javier Peña being the our flawed AF king. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, resentments, toxic coping mechanisms, heartbreak and hidden motives. Descriptions of pining, light dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, vindictive behavior, foreboding threats, and emotional trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Reader, Wrathful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

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Previous chapter - Chapter 36: Pésame

Chapter 37: Everything

After the capture of Miguel Rodríguez, things seemingly fall into place, as if they’d always been planned that way.

You go into work the next day and hear about how Chepe Santacruz surrendered to the authorities and was taken into custody to La Picota, and by the following afternoon, after a purported massacre at a Norte del Valle ranch, Pacho Herrera is arrested at a church without incident.

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